Three Words
by Sam.J.Eller
Summary: There are three words in the English language that infuriate Sam Winchester more than anything. Three words that hurt more than any physical injury he has ever endured. Three words that make him impossibly more stubborn. Three words that equally enrage and devastate him. Three words that alight his temper and break his heart. Only three words. And Dean just said them.
1. Chapter 1

He couldn't fucking believe it.

Sam couldn't believe what his brother had said.

He was in shock that those words left Dean's mouth.

He couldn't accept the fact that the older Winchester had the audacity to spout that shit at him.

That seemingly simple phrase was raging through the young hunter's mind and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get it the fuck out.

Sam failed to withhold a hiss, the pain flaring in his left shoulder as his arm shifted in its make-shift sling. He could sense his brother's eyes on him before he glanced over to see the worried green gaze.

"M'fine." He mumbled through clenched teeth, dismissing Dean's concern.

Sam watched as the driver turned back toward the road, his lips pressed into a thin line as he forced the Impala to go just a little bit faster.

Sam was tempted to point out that the trip back to the cabin they were crashing in wasn't going to get any shorter if they got pulled over for speeding, but he let it go, both because he was losing too much blood to care and because it was unlikely there would be any police cruisers on the unlit backroad.

Sam dropped his head against the window, leaning his long torso into the door, trying to keep the wounds on his back and shoulder from making contact with anything – all in a vain attempt to lessen the pain coursing through his weary frame. He closed his eyes, trying to get his mind to focus on anything - even the agony he was experiencing, but nothing worked. There was no topic on the damn planet that could get Sam's mind off what his big brother had said to him.

A bump in the road jolted the injured man, causing his back to press into the upholstery and sending sparks of fire through his frame.

"Fuck." He cursed, choking on a breath as anguish burned in his wounds.

"Shit! Sorry, Sammy."

Sam grit his teeth at the apology as he swallowed another sound of pain that was fighting its way out. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he pressed his right side back against the door, hoping to stabilize his body. Of course his brother felt guilty for stupid shit like not being able to see every bump on a pitch-black country road, and the moron probably felt guilty for Sam being hurt in the first place – but he didn't seem to care much about the garbage that had shot from his lips directly into the younger man's soul.

Dean didn't give a crap about the one damn thing he should feel guilty for.

Asshole.

Sam scowled, his jaw clenching as he curled up closer to the door.

"You sure you don't want to lie down in the back?" Dean asked, for what had to be the fifteenth time.

No shit, Sam wanted to stretch out on the bench seat, it would be twice more comfortable than the hunched position he was currently adopting. When Dean had first helped Sam over to the car, his intention had been to load the tall frame into the back, but Sam had resisted. Not because it wasn't a good idea, the younger man knew that laying on his right side with his back away from the upholstery would have been far more painless.

But, unfourtunately, Sam's big brother was an idiot.

A complete blockhead who had just recently proven that he'd forgotten he had a partner and now Sam needed to remind him – something he couldn't do from the backseat. Backseats were for children, for kids that needed to be protected from danger, for dependents – that's not who Sam was, not anymore. He was grown now. Since he had returned from school things were meant to be different. He was supposed to be Dean's _partner_ , someone his brother could lean on, someone who could be trusted to have the older hunter's back. Sam hadn't had enough oxygen or enough blood to convey that message verbally, instead he had stubbornly insisted on taking his place in the passenger seat, where he would sit side-by-side, shoulder-to-shoulder with his big brother and maybe – just maybe – Dean would clue the fuck in.

Though, that didn't seem to be the case.

"I'm sure." Sam grumbled, irrationally irritated that his silent message wasn't getting across.

"Another thirty minutes, at least." Dean stated, the sympathetic warning sounding far more like the hopeful suggestion Sam knew it to be. Dean wanted him to change his mind, but he was out of luck, because the youngest Winchester was in no mood to be taking suggestions, especially from the moron at his side.

"I know." He declared stubbornly, though it was a complete lie, he'd been so distracted by his mounting pain and frustration that he'd failed to notice how little time had passed.

Sam glanced to the left in time to see his big brother's pinched expression before Dean returned his focus to the road.

He could tell that the driver was annoyed but was withholding his comments because he could clearly detect that Sam was beyond pissed. Dean had always been able to read Sam quite well, but the younger man had no doubt that his brother was completely off-base as to the root of Sam's fury.

Because Dean was an idiot.

Sam stared out into the dark night, doing his best to ignore the pain pulsing through his body, as he pondered the evening's events.

 _It had all started rather simply._

 _That should have been the first warning, because nothing in hunting was ever simple._

 _Some animal had been devouring hikers in the area. Anyone who had attempted to tackle a particularly steep and forested trail that stretched across the mountainous terrain had ended up being shred to pieces. The authorities pinned it as a pack of coyotes that must had gone rabid, typical, but Sam and Dean knew it was more the moment they saw an image of one of the victims. The degree to which the human bodies were torn apart was alarming to say the least and the cyclic pattern of the killings was far from coincidental. The Winchester boys weren't positive, but they were sure enough to investigate the matter, especially because they had just completed a case in the area._

 _Preliminary research had turned up little information and the two hunters had been left with no choice but to venture up the trail, waiting for sunset on the proper day, hoping to encounter the beast that was likely not an official member of the animal kingdom. They had traveled with sufficient artillery, machetes through their belt loops and rifles in their hands, as well as the weapons bag in tow. Neither man was thrilled at the idea of fighting a creature they had yet to identify, but both had agreed it to be the most efficient course of action after a thorough investigation had produced nothing of significance._

 _Regardless of their lack of enthusiasm over the mystery hunt, neither brother was too concerned. They were relatively certain it was an animal of a supernatural nature and while its apparent capabilities were daunting, it was nowhere near the most challenging or powerful adversary the had faced – and certainly not the most complicated._

 _They had been right._

 _It had been an animal – of sorts._

 _The peculiar appearance suggested a supernatural lineage, something that its absurd speed and abnormal strength had confirmed._

 _Both brothers had been caught off guard, but both were well-trained and had quickly jumped into action. The beast had more teeth than could be counted – each one long and sharp and ready to tear. It was as large as a mountain lion, and twice as muscular. Its fur was bristled and its underbelly was layered in what appeared to be scales. The machetes were of no use, there was no way they could get close enough to use them without their head's being chomped off. The lower caliber fire arms did little damage, leaving a mark and even drawing some blood, but not slowing the creature down in the slightest. It was the double-barreled shotgun that proved most effective. Dean had fired first – the beast moved too quickly and was far too lethal for either hunter to waste time trying to line up the perfect shot – it tore through the animal's side and caused it to release an ear-piercing scream._

 _The supernatural being was wounded and while the injury slowed it down a tad, its rage made it impossibly more vicious. It catapulted towards Dean, who was forced to rapidly back away as he pumped the gun and took aim, but it was Sam who fired next._

 _The creature was mere inches away from Dean – who wasn't able to move back a step further without falling off the edge of the overhang– but the shot did what Sam prayed it would and redirected the monster's fury at him, causing it to spin back in the younger hunter's direction. Unfortunately, in the process of turning, the animal's supernaturally large tail whipped around and slammed into Dean._

 _Sam started running as he watched Dean try and fail to find his footing, the force of the tail shoving him off balance and swiping his feet over the cliff. As the taller man pumped his legs, he couldn't tear his eyes away from his brother, who had fallen on his chest and was currently searching for something to grasp as his body began to slip over the edge. Sam's focus was solely on Dean, paying no mind to the creature he knew was bound to be pursuing him._

 _It didn't matter._

 _Sam didn't have time to fight it before his brother dropped off the escarpment. He just needed to out-run it. He had to get to Dean before the monster got to him. And he had a chance because the animal was injured, if it hadn't been Sam knew that it would already be on top of him. He felt his jacket pull -hearing it rip - and heard Dean call for him to "watch out!" as the older man disappeared even further over the edge, his hands scrambling for something to hold onto as he fought against gravity – that was all the motivation Sam needed to run impossibly faster._

 _Once Dean's shoulders vanished from sight, followed rapidly by his head, Sam knew that he was out of time. He cried out for his brother as he leapt forward, feeling each muscle in his body complain as he forced them to extend beyond their capabilities. Sam's long frame slammed mercilessly into the hard ground, rocks jabbing into his ribs, the impact stealing his breath – but none of that mattered._

 _All that mattered was that Sam had Dean's wrist in his grasp. He was pulled forward by the weight of the older hunter, his head popping over the edge. Sam opened eyes he hadn't realized were closed, immediately catching the bright green gaze that was staring up at him. Dean looked as shocked as Sam felt, he had been so sure he wouldn't reach Dean before he vanished – and yet at the same time he hadn't allowed that to even be an option._

 _The younger man's wrist popped in complaint as Dean's body swung in his hold. Sam removed his left hand from where it was grasping the edge of the escarpment – to keep his body from sliding too far forward – and reached it down to his older brother, trying desperately to ignore the fact that the ground beneath Dean's dangling legs was nearly too far away to make out._

" _Other hand." Sam grit out, his lungs still struggling to regain the oxygen that had been knocked out of them._

 _Dean grunted as he reached up, his right-hand meeting Sam's left, his calloused fingers gripping Sam's longer ones._

 _Sam grit his teeth as he tried to pull his brother up, but Dean's weight had always surpassed his own, even since his growth spurt. Dean was all muscle (perhaps a little hamburger, but mostly muscle) and Sam had never been that way. Growing up he had been skin and bones, something that age hadn't changed – Jess used to joke that people would think her cooking was rubbish if Sam stayed so damn skinny, which had always made the young man laugh, because his girlfriend had in fact been a terrible cook – and even Sam's return to the hunting life hadn't made much of a difference in respect to his weight. Dean had recently been complaining that the kid had lost too much weight, that he'd become too picky of an eater, when - in actuality they - both knew that Sam's lack of appetite had a great deal more to do with his grief than his dietary preferences._

 _Sam cursed as his attempts to pull his brother up only resulted in him being tugged further over the edge._

" _Sam."_

 _The youngest Winchester ignored his brother's call, closing his eyes as he focussed, digging his elbows and feet into the rocky dirt as he tried to anchor himself in the ground before making a second attempt to pull Dean up over the precipice._

 _He never had the chance to see if the method worked, hell he didn't have the chance to fucking blink, before he felt a crushing weight slam onto his back – his brother screaming out his name in time with the action. His lungs were emptied yet again, the air forced out of them by the beast compressing his insides. Though he didn't seem to have any air, a scream still tore from Sam's gullet as razorlike claws pierced into his skin._

 _They remained inside of him, sinking deeper as the creature settled onto the hunter's back._

" _Fuck." Sam cursed, his frame trembling in agony and his lungs struggling to expand under the restrictive pressure. It was everything he could do to keep hold of his big brother as pain threatened to overcome him._

 _Even amidst his physical anguish, Sam felt Dean's grip loosen on his left hand. He looked down at his brother. The green gaze staring up at him was filled with fear and pain, and – the thing that speared Sam with ice cold fear – a calm resignation._

" _Don't." Sam warned through clenched teeth, because he recognized that stupid self-sacrificial look on his big brother's face and he wasn't having any of it. Not anymore. He was a fucking adult now, Dean didn't have to be the martyr anymore._

" _Let me go."_

 _Sam had known something asinine was going to come out of the hunter's mouth, but the phrase still shocked him to his very core._

 _The younger man didn't have time to deal with any of the emotions storming inside of him, before he was distracted by a set of razor teeth clamping down around his left shoulder._

 _Sam felt more than heard a scream rip its way through his body and out his mouth. He slammed his eyes closed in a futile attempt to escape the agony burning through him like wildfire. His right hand clenched itself impossibly tighter around Dean's left wrist, but his left hand contracted, his big brother's limp fingers slipping even further away before Sam could force a grip. His arm was screaming from his perforated shoulder to the tips of his fingers and it was very nearly more than he could manage to maintain a grip on the top half of his brother's remaining four fingers – his thumb having slipped entirely loose._

 _Sam growled in both pain and mounting frustration. It would really help him out if his moron of a brother would hold onto him, instead of making Sam do all the goddamn work._

 _He cried out as the monster's jaw clamped down harder on his shoulder and began to pull back, as though the damn creature was trying to rip the entirety of the joint right off Sam's body._

" _Let me go!" Dean ordered, clearly channeling John Winchester with the force of the command._

 _Sam would have rolled his eyes if he wasn't pooling every drop energy into the task of keeping his brother from dropping a few hundred-thousand feet to his death. Dean knew better than anyone that the drill-sergeant method never worked on the youngest Winchester, much to their father's disgrace._

 _Sam was tempted to tell Dean just where he could shove his authoritative demand, but as he felt the fight within him begin to fade, he knew that his time was running out. His energy was draining just as fast as the blood he could feel drenching his back. He tried to take a breath, but was rewarded only with a shallow wheeze that felt as terrible as it sounded._

" _Hey, little brother."_

 _Sam stared down at the man dangling in his grip, trying to ignore the scream of each strained muscle, luckily the large mouth gnawing on his shoulder and the claws buried in his back made it much easier to ignore the discomfort of holding Dean's weight for longer than his body could handle._

" _It's okay, kiddo. It's not your fault. You've done enough. Just let go."_

 _The firm but gentle insistence was something Sam was ingrained to listen to, it was the tone that had been his comfort and his guide his entire life. He was damn near conditioned to respond to it._

 _But not this time._

 _Dean was always doing what was best for Sam and the younger hunter loved him for it, but he couldn't let it happen this time._

 _He wouldn't choose himself over his brother, not ever._

 _He wouldn't allow his hero to lay down his life for him, not again._

 _It was time for him to do what was best for Dean, damn the consequences._

 _Sam was finally old enough and strong enough to protect his big brother and nothing on this cursed planet would convince him to give that up._

" _Sammy, let me go."_

 _It was a plea._

 _Dean was pulling out the big guns - making his last stand, because he knew that his kid found it pretty fucking impossible not to give in to such a rare and desperate request._

" _Dean." Sam gasped, fighting against the pain and powerful tremble of his frame that was threatening to damage his white-knuckled grip of Dean's left wrist and right fingers._

 _The green eyes met his, the gaze begging him to follow instruction and save himself._

" _Sammy."_

 _It was absolution and forgiveness and so much love in one goddamn word and it made Sam feel almost as grateful as it did pissed. He didn't deserve forgiveness if he did what Dean wanted him to. It wasn't fucking okay and Dean trying to make it so was infuriating his younger brother. Sam's head was a tornado of aggravation and outrage, he shoved it aside, because he didn't have time for that shit._

" _Shut. The. Fuck. Up." Sam grit out between clenched teeth, closing his eyes and sucking in a shallow breath of air as he readied himself to pull his brother to safety._

 _He knew he only had one decent shot in him. The energy he would expel in a single attempt would empty his tank and he knew there would be no chance to refill it. Not to mention, the supernatural beast seemed to be getting bored with trying to chew through Sam's shoulder and was starting to slide closer to the hunter's neck, which he knew would not stand a chance against those razor teeth; as shallow as they were, they were still long enough to perforate his carotid artery – there'd be no chance of surviving that and it wouldn't only lead to Sam's demise, but his brother's as well, which would explain the hollered argument Dean was currently trying to have._

 _He was shouting at Sam, telling him not to be stupid, that he was going to get himself killed, quickly reverting to begging for Sam to let go and assuring him that it would be okay. The younger hunter shut the older one out, focussing instead on the task at hand and trying to muster every ounce of energy that remained inside his broken body._

 _Sam made use of the one advantage of having an obscenely large creature perched on his back, the animal was providing an anchor. As long as its significant weight stayed in place on Sam's frame, the hunter would be able to put all his remaining strength into tugging his brother up over the edge without Dean's extra poundage pulling Sam down._

 _Sam grunted, biting back a guttural cry as he began to pull. He pushed each of his physical limits as he struggled to lift his brother's dangling form. It took longer than it should have, but after a moment or two he felt Dean return his lefthanded grip – his brother finally relenting and accepting the idea that he wasn't going to win this war and he might as well be of some fucking use._

 _Sam kept pulling, his elbows bending and his back arching as progress was made. His arms were shaking hard now, his breath coming in slivers of oxygen as his strength rapidly began to dissipate. Sam's eyes flew open as he felt Dean tear his fingers out of his left hand, only to see that his brother was close enough to grip the earth and was doing what he could to pull himself back over the edge._

 _Mere seconds later, Sam was drained dry and was doing little more than just holding onto his brother's wrist with a weak grip as he watched through lidded eyes as Dean clambered up onto the cliff's edge, his own arms shaking as his feet finally hit dirt. Only when he saw the soles of his brother's shoes safely imprint the rocky terrain, did Sam allow his eyes to fall closed and his body to forfeit its last speck of fight._

 _He was vaguely aware of the mouth that lost interest in his collarbone, where it had moved to after sufficiently shredding his shoulder, when he heard the shotgun sound three times before the creature fell limp on top of him. Sam coughed on much needed oxygen as his ribs protested the pressure of the animal's deadweight. He inhaled a breath of relief as the monster was rolled off him, but that relief was short-lived as the creature's claws shifted from where they were embedded into Sam's back._

 _A guttural scream tore through him as the fire of agony consumed him._

" _Fuck! I'm sorry, Sam. I didn't know he still had you." Dean declared, dropping to his knees next to his writhing brother._

" _S'okay." The youngest Winchester rasped, trying and failing to stem the aggressive way his body was shaking._

" _I've got to get them out, buddy." Dean stated regrettably, his sympathy apparent in his tone and the comforting hand that wrapped around Sam's hip._

 _Sam clenched his jaw. He wasn't ready for more pain. He didn't even have the energy to muster up another scream._

 _Or so he had thought._

 _A choked cry sounding nearly foreign ripped its way out from Sam's gullet and followed him into the darkness as his world went black._

 _He woke to a mere fraction less pain than he had lost consciousness to – which was likely why it took him so much longer to figure out what the hell was going on. He was completely disoriented, his limbs swaying slightly and his body jerking steadily as it seemed to be in some sort of forward motion. Cracking his eyes open was of no help, there was nothing but darkness to be seen. He used his fingers to search his surroundings, he flinched as the minimal movement of his left arm sent fire up into his shoulder, his fingers brushing what felt like leather and jean before going limp in response to the agony. His right hand was a little more successful. It felt around, brushing against what had to be some sort of fabric, before his fingers were entangled in something he instantly recognized._

 _That ugly ass amulet he had given his brother so long ago._

 _Relief flooded through Sam's body, overpowering his pain – providing him a second of reprieve, a second that he spent dwelling in the absolute safety that his big brother's presence had always provided. The wave of relief that washed over him was reflective of the way he had felt the moment he had seen that stupid brass charm dangling from Dean's neck when he'd broken into Sam's place back at Stanford. The younger man had been worried that with everything that happened, with the fracture in the family, with his leaving – that perhaps Dean no longer felt the same way toward his younger brother that he once had. The second the metallic charm had caught Sam's eyes from where it had been resting against the older Winchester's chest, he had been instantly relieved. The fact that Dean had been sporting the tacky gift, had been as much reassurance as Sam could ask for that his big brother still cared about him, that Dean had thought about him in his absence, and that even through the messy split and prolonged separation – Sam still had the one thing that had gotten him through his childhood, the one thing that he needed and valued above all else, the one thing that he hadn't yet known was about to get him through the hardest time of his life, his big brother's unconditional love._

 _Sam tried to take a breath, smelling leather and blood, with the faint addition of Dean's distinct sent, his rib cage having a difficult time expanding with his brother's shoulders digging into his chest. His left arm throbbed painfully as it swung – feeling as though it was barely attached to his mulled shoulder._

 _Sam flinched as the hunter holding his weight lurched, the abrupt movement sending a fire through the younger man. A sharp inhale ending in an embarrassingly broken cry when the wounds on his back screamed in pain._

" _I'm sorry, Sam. Just hold on, kiddo. We're almost at the car."_

 _Dean didn't seem too surprised to hear that his brother had returned to consciousness, then again Sam figured that the loose grip he still had on the amulet had been enough to give him away before the pitiful noise he made._

 _Sam wished he could have made himself pass out again, what he wouldn't have given to be blissfully unaware of the pain he was experiencing. He closed his eyes, pressing his face against Dean's jacket, wondering how he hadn't recognized that familiar scent the instant he had come around. He tried to submit himself to the darkness, allow it to take him and free him from the anguish. Unfortunately, the unbearable agony that had saved him from consciousness, had dimmed to a barely bearable level of pain that was preventing him from passing out again._

 _When unconsciousness refused to come, Sam used a different method to cope – one that he was much more accustomed to._

 _He tried to ground himself in his big brother._

 _Sam pressed his face harder into the muscular leather-clad shoulder, he listened to Dean's labored breathing and did his best to mold his body into the firm frame carrying him. His long fingers clenched around the brass charm, the familiar face imprinting on his palm._

" _I've go you, Sammy. Just hold on for me, little brother. Just hold on." Dean petitioned softly._

 _Sam wanted to say something comforting. He could hear the fear in his brother's voice and wanted to rid of it, but he didn't have the energy – something he knew the warm substance drenching his back was to be blamed for. He hooked the fingers of his left hand into Dean's back beltloop, hoping that the small gesture would convey some flicker of reassurance._

 _Sam didn't know how much time had gone by. He couldn't figure out how long they had been walking, or rather, Dean had been walking. He didn't even have any idea how much time had passed since he'd been mauled. What he could recall was that the hike into the beast's preferred place of attack had taken hours._

 _He hoped they were nearing the clearing where they had left the Impala, both because Sam was beginning to question how much blood a human could lose before they were drained dry and because the youngest Winchester wasn't overly-sure how much longer his big brother was going to last. He could hear Dean's harsh breathing and sense the shorter frame straining to hold him steady. He could feel his body jerk every time the older man mis-stepped, which Sam knew to be an obvious sign that Dean's strength was wavering, because the elder hunter had forever had a lethal grace about him – it was Sam who had always been the clutz. Each jerky movement was accompanied with a hiss of pain from San and a sympathetic apology from Dean._

 _Because ofcourse the idiot wasn't going to bother apologizing for the one goddamn thing he needed to._

 _It was a pattern that was growing rather tiresome and the youngest Winchester was more than content when they finally reached the car. Dean had tried to unload him in the backseat, but Sam had refused – he had poured each last drop of strength he had into his stubbornness and refused to sit anywhere but the front. Where he belonged._

 _Because he was Dean's fucking partner, his equal – even if his brother had forgotten that fact._

"Come on, Sam. We've got to get you up."

The recollection of the day's events fizzled out as Sam opened eyes he hadn't known were closed. He must have zoned out because the Impala had stopped and it seemed as though they had arrived at their location. Sam must have been really out of it because not only were they parked but his passenger door had been opened and Dean was crouched down, his hand on one of the younger hunter's boney knees.

Sam blinked, trying to rid of the groggy fog that was masking his world. The blood loss was really affecting him. He started at the slam of a door nearby, confused over why there was so much noise at a secluded cabin. He looked out the open door past his big brother and realized it was so loud because they weren't at the quiet wood house buried in the forest, they were in a vast parking lot that appeared to belong to a building that was a hundred-times the size of the residence in which they had stayed the past couple nights.

A hospital.

Or what passed for a hospital in the relatively small town.

"Dean?" He grumbled, trusting his brother to understand his inquiry as well as his displeasure.

"You're torn to hell, Sam. You've lost too much blood, I'm pretty sure you've got shredded muscles in your back, and you might need a fucking skin-graft on that shoulder." Dean's explanation started sympathetic, but grew into something sounding far more like fury with each word.

Sam frowned. He had never considered that there was anything wrong with him that his brother couldn't fix.

"You've stitched muscle before." He mumbled. His body was in agony and his soul eviscerated – the last thing he wanted was to be interrogated and prodded by rough unfamiliar hands.

"Only when a hospital wasn't an option. Besides – I'm pretty sure you're going to need a goddamn bucket of blood at this point, and I don't have that kind of supplies. I also don't like the way you're wheezing." Dean added, his lips pulling impossibly further down.

"Pro'ly just cracked ribs." Sam brushed off, he'd had far worse.

"How's about we let a doctor do the diagnosing." Dean suggested, his remark carefully formed as the most casual of requests – but his tone gave him away, it always did.

Dean was scared.

Sam frowned, knowing what it was like to be concerned to the point of out-right fear.

He could sympathise with that.

But he was still pissed, and he let Dean know so by trying to haul his broken body out of the car all on his own.

It was a dumb decision that was birthed solely from petty anger, but Sam was pissed and it was a difficult emotion to express while being entirely dependent. All Sam managed to do was nearly tumble out of his seat and directly onto the pavement, Dean was taken by surprise and just barely catching the taller man in time.

"Whoah! Sam, what the fu—

Dean bit off his outraged exclamation after Sam sent him an angry glare. The older man slammed his mouth closed, his lips in a firm furious line and his face tight with frustration, but he remained silent as he pulled Sam's good arm over his shoulders and all but carried the wounded hunter into the hospital.

Things grew fuzzy after the brief march from the Impala to the entrance of the medical center. Sam remembered lots of shouting, but he couldn't keep track of any of, he was incredibly dizzy. Just as he felt his long frame begin to tumble, too many hands grabbed him and forced him onto an uncomfortable surface. He cried out as he was pressed to lay on his lacerated back. He heard Dean shouting, he sounded furious, but Sam didn't have time for that now, he was distracted by merciless anguish burning through him. He tried to turn but the unforgiving grips wouldn't allow it, just when he thought he was going to pass out once again all the harsh pressures disappeared and a pair of calloused hands gently, but firmly, rolled Sam's trembling frame onto his right side.

"There you go, Sammy. Just breathe, kiddo." Dean's voice encouraged. Sam didn't even have time to open his eyes before he was being moved rapidly once again, air rushing noisily past him as he completely lost his bearings.

He wanted to call out for Dean, he wanted to beg for his brother to come back, to make everything better; but he was still so fucking angry. He wasn't able to forget what Dean had said, the three words that hadn't stopped tormenting Sam's mind since they left his big brother's lips. The three words that perforated his soul as deeply and painfully as the monster's claws had his back. The three words that rang on repeat through his head and ignited an anger in the younger man that encouraged him to stubbornly clench his jaw and endure the agony – both physical and emotional - until his world went blessedly dark.


	2. Chapter 2

The next thing Sam was aware of was the thick fog that had settled over everything, he felt as though he was floating in it – searching for something. There was a beeping in the background that the young man knew he recognized, but for some reason he couldn't peg it – though he didn't bother trying all that hard because that wasn't what he was looking for. There was a dull ache running up and down his back and his shoulder was throbbing, but he paid no mind to it, because that was not the target of his search. He heard noise, it sounded like there was a great deal of bustling movement not far from Sam's location, and while the noise piqued his interest for a moment, he moved on in search of the thing that his heart wanted.

He didn't know what it was, but he knew that he hadn't found it yet.

He racked his brain, trying to figure out what he needed so badly, what vital part of his world was missing. What had been taken from him? Why did he feel so lost?

He tried to think of before.

Before the fog.

But all he could recall was pain.

Pain coursing through his veins and pulsing mercilessly through his frame.

He remembered lots of blood, which would explain part of the agony he had been in. He could also recall the feeling of harsh unrelenting grips holding him down, forcing him to lay still in positions that sent fire through his body.

He sucked in a sharp breath, the recollection of the harsh treatment and the pain it caused alighting his fear and sparking his natural fight-or-flight instincts to life. He was struggling to open his eyes, his breath quickening as panic approached. His eyelids finally lifted, only to allow his retinas to be blinded by bright unnatural light. The feeling of a hand wrapping around his hip had Sam flinching away, the violent movement making him gasp as agony flared up his back and down his left arm to the very tips of his fingers.

"Shit! I'm sorry. Sam, I'm sorry."

If the younger man hadn't recognized the touch mid-flinch, that voice would have told him who was by his side.

Dean.

That was what had been missing, that was who he had been searching for. The sudden realization made all his foggy wonderings seem so incredibly absurd.

The presence of his big brother sent relief flowing through Sam, but that calming wave was followed quickly by anger, because he remembered what had happened – or more specifically – what stupid shit had come from Dean's mouth. Sam's frame stiffened at the recollection, as he did what he could to swallow the physical anguish and pull himself together. He tried to toughen up. To need his brother a little less. So that Dean could understand that Sam was his **partner** not his ward.

He wished he could turn over and get a look at the man he could sense standing tensely behind him, but his back was throbbing in time with his heartbeat and he knew placing any pressure on it would be the worst possible idea.

"I told them to up your morphine, but the doc said you're already at the max dose. I don't think they took your sasquatch size into account." Dean muttered.

Sam grunted, irritated the older man wasn't moving around the bed to where his brother could freakin' see him, since his injuries only permitted him to lay on his right side. But Sam was too proud to ask Dean to shift into sight, so instead he grit his teeth and stared at the wall, one that was absent of any interesting markings and was painted that shade of white that only hospitals seemed to have access to.

Dean cleared his throat in that nervous way he always did when he was feeling unsure. It was a quirk that often encouraged Sam to toss his big brother a lifeline and be the one to initiate the conversation that Dean was struggling with.

But not this time.

This time Sam was far too pissed to give support. He wanted Dean to feel uncertain and anxious and really fucking stupid, because that's exactly what he was.

"They – uh." Another apprehensive throat clearing that made Sam feel a familiar flash of sympathy before he swallowed it down and felt himself tense-up even more. "They put your shoulder back in place, it was dislocated. The doc said your right wrist was wrenched pretty bad too – they'll both be sore for awhile."

Sam didn't give the information much consideration, dislocated limbs weren't much more significant than paper cuts in the hunting life.

Dean continued, his voice far softer now. "The had to do surgery on your back, there was a lot of muscle damage. And they had to repair your right kidney, they said it was pretty torn up."

The raspy voice listing the injuries sounded as pained as Sam felt. The taller man knew that his brother was suffering with him. Dean had always been that way, he'd always hurt with Sam whenever the youngest Winchester was injured. And Sam was grateful for that. Grateful to have one person in his life that loved and cared about him so completely that they felt his pain. Sam was the same way with Dean. Nothing hurt Sam more than seeing his big brother suffer.

But none of that changed what Dean had said.

Or made Sam less angry about it.

So he remained keyed up and unforgiving on the frustratingly uncomfortable hospital bed.

Several moments of silence passed between the brothers, all of which Sam spent thinking about how much physical pain he was in, because even that depressing train of thought was an improvement over the three other words that proceeded to play on repeat in his head. The three words that had stalled his heartbeat and stolen his breath. The three words that terrified him just as much as they enraged him. The three words that were so fucking unfair to both him and his big brother.

 **Let me go.**

How fucking dare Dean say shit like that. How could he even think to request Sam to do something that he was completely incapable of, something that Dean himself could never even fathom doing. But he expected Sam to. Of course, because the youngest Winchester was a selfish prick who obviously only gave a shit about himself. Right? Hell, Sam had let John down his entire goddamn life by not being a better hunter and deserting the family and the business when he ran off to school, like the ungrateful bastard he was. Then he'd let Jess down by inviting evil into her life and not warning her that it was going to show up in her fucking bedroom and then not bothering to be around to protect her from being burned alive. Clearly, Sam was in the practice of letting down anyone who gave a shit about him, so why not Dean? Why not the one person who cared most about him on the whole damn planet? Why no the person who raised him? Why not the person who protected him and always sacrificed fucking everything for him? Why wouldn't Sam be okay with failing the only person who he had ever been able to truly count on? He'd failed everybody else. Obviously, he shouldn't give a shit about adding one more name to the list.

Because he came first, right? His needs, his wants, his fucking life came before everyone else's. Because Sam was a selfish piece of shit.

Or at least, that's what Dean seemed to think.

His furry caused him to tense up even more, the newly-repaired muscles in his back screaming under the strain, causing Sam to flinch and curse as it became too much.

"Hey, whoah. What's wrong?" Dean asked as Sam felt his brother's large hand splayed gently over his left hip. The lean frame instinctually relaxed at the familiar touch, his body betraying the infuriated state his mind was in.

"I'm fine." He bit out, twitching ever-so-slightly away from the careful hold. He felt Dean not only remove his hand, but heard him take a step back in response. Sam was satisfied that his anger had gotten across clearly, but his body craved the comforting contact and his soul was desperate for his big brother – as it always was when things weren't quite right between the two.

"Look, man, I didn't see it on time. I should've been more prepared. I didn't … I'm – I'm sorry."

Sam opened his mouth, hearing the distress in his big brother's voice and finally willing to throw the hunter a lifeline. He was trying to think through the haze of drugs and anger, trying to figure out what to say, how to explain to Dean that he didn't need to apologize for getting knocked off a cliff, but he damn well needed to apologize for something else. But Dean spoke before Sam had worked out a diplomatic response.

"Visiting hours are just about over. So, I guess I'll head back to the cabin and, uh, let you get some rest."

The sound of Sam's teeth meeting echoed through his skull from the force of which his jaw clamped shut.

Dean had never paid mind to any hospital regulations before.

Not once.

He had battled nurses and doctors and security and even the great John Winchester countless times in the past in order to remain by an injured Sam's bedside. Sam had always done the same for Dean, though he hadn't ever done it with the same fire that Dean could pull off.

"I'll be back in the morning. Get some sleep."

Sam barely managed a nod, swallowing the lump that had appeared in his throat as his vision grew cloudy, the white wall beginning to blurr from focus. It wasn't until the graceful tread could no longer be heard echoing through the hall, that Sam allowed a single tear to fall.

"Fuck." He rasped, shifting in the bed, trying to find some level of comfort now that his main source had just marched itself out of the building.

His left side was a no-go thanks to his jacked-up shoulder, laying on his back obviously wasn't an option because of all the damage that supernatural animal had done to it, his stomach would be too difficult to maneuver onto thanks to the sling around his left arm and all the wires that he was currently hooked up to. Sam tried to curl up on his right side, but the muscles in his back objected violently, causing him to gag, nearly vomiting as agony ripped through him.

"Oh, careful, sweetie. Try not to move."

The nurse came into view, her expression pinched in what looked like mild concern as she bent down looking at her trembling patient. Sam was more grateful than he could express that she didn't reach out to touch him, everything hurt and Dean was the only one who was ever able to find that one spot that wouldn't cause additional pain.

"Your brother said you were hurting pretty bad." She cooed sympathetically, pulling a syringe from her pocket.

Sam tensed.

"What's that?"

He didn't usually have to worry about it, usually Dean was around to ask those kinds of questions, to give the medical staff the third degree to ensure they knew what they were doing. Sam would normally roll his eyes at his brother's mistrusting nature, he only ever acted under the same suspicion when Dean was the one being doctored.

"Just something to help with the pain, darling."

Sam nodded as he watched her inject the liquid into one of the numerous IV tubes attached to him.

"It won't last long but maybe give you enough relief to fall asleep. I guess after so many days of the strong stuff, morphine just doesn't feel like it's enough to do the job, huh?"

Sam frowned at that. He had known some time had passed but he certainly didn't know it had been **days**.

"Days?" He inquired.

"Oh yes, dear. You've been here for nearly four days." She stated, glancing up from the chart she had been studying in her hands. "It makes sense you wouldn't remember, you've been going through one surgery after the next so all the drugs they had you on pretty much kept you under the whole time."

Sam's frown deepened as he reached up with his right hand, frowning as his fingertips brushed at his jaw, searching for hair growth that would back-up the purposed timeline.

"Your brother made sure the nurse kept you shaved when she came in to bathe you the other day. He said you didn't like having whiskers."

They made his face itchy, something he had commented on once when they had run out shaving cream and Dean had recommended just letting his hair grow a little, commenting that a beard might disguise the babyface he had going on and maybe Sam would even stop getting carded at every damn bar.

Sam supposed a look at his big brother's face would have given him a better idea about how much time had passed, but he hadn't gotten a good look, or any look at Dean since he woke up.

And all of the sudden, that wasn't okay.

Sam needed to see his big brother, if only to yell in his stupid face and tell him what an idiot he was.

He couldn't wait any longer, he couldn't allow the issues between them to stew, because they had done that too many times before; refusing to have the hard discussions or just be honest and instead allowing the little things to get in the way and keep them apart. Sam wasn't going to do that. He had just gotten his big brother back after years of separation, he had missed him every damn day, but there had been too much unspoken shit between them for him to pick up the phone. He wouldn't go back to that.

No fucking way.

He needed to see Dean.

He needed to talk and fight and force the uncomfortable conversation.

He needed to make things right.

And he needed to do it now.

"I need to go." Sam said quietly to himself as he began the enormous effort of trying to sit up. His left arm was completely out of commission, but his right arm managed to hold his weight as he leveraged himself up.

"No, dear, you can't leave. We need to keep you for a couple more nights at the least. You just came to now and we were only able to remove the catheter an hour ago, we need to make sure your kidney is functioning sufficiently. The doctor needs to be sure there are no complications or signs of infection." The nurse announced as her hands hovered over Sam, but didn't touch him – something the injured man was immensely grateful for. He was in too much pain already, he couldn't imagine anything adding to it.

"No. I need to go." Sam dismissed, waving off the hands that were getting closer, before unclipping the heart monitor from his finger and reaching for one of the many other things that were attached to him.

"Don't!" The nurse nearly shouted, placing her hand on top of the one Sam currently had wrapped around one of his IV's.

"I need to go." Sam bit out, feeling his nostrils flair as anger appeared. He didn't appreciate being told what to do, and he really wasn't okay with anyone keeping him away from his big brother, his rising aggravation made that evident. "Let go." He ground out, sounding threatening to even his own ears.

The nurse's eyes grew and she backed away, but her hand remained firmly in place. Sam didn't want to scare the older lady, he knew she was just doing her job, but he needed to get to Dean and no one was going to stop him, no matter how well-intentioned.

"If you leave. It will be against medical advice."

Sam nodded, he'd heard it all before. "I know. I'll sign whatever I need to sign. But I'm leaving, now." He decreed with every ounce of conviction he possessed.

He had a brief but intense stare down with the nurse. Her gaze was stern, but Sam's was unwavering.

The nurse huffed in irritation before swatting Sam's hand away and beginning to remove the various tubes and monitoring devices. The scowl never left her face and her touch was clinical – nearly abrasive, it was nothing like Dean's. The older man had disconnected Sam from hospital equipment more times than the youngest Winchester could begin to calculate, but he had always done it so gently it had been entirely painless. Sam winced as the last needle was ripped from his vein and frowned down at the blood that welled up in its place.

"Keep your ass here until I come back with the papers. I'm not getting fired because you are being a complete fool."

Sam nodded, feeling like a chastised child. If Dean was around, he would have bit the nurse's head off for making Sam feel so damn small. He felt liquid dripping down his arm and looked to see it was that same spot where the IV had been removed that was continuing to leak. He frowned, he wanted to swipe it away, but the hand he needed was dangling out of a sling.

Sam looked down, just now noticing that he was wearing sweatpants beneath his hospital gown, he quirked a smile, he knew that was his big brother's doing. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, grateful as hell to spot one of Dean's old sweatshirts draped over the chair Sam presumed his big brother had occupied during his hospital stay. He carefully began to Houdini himself out of the uncomfortable gown. He dropped the sterile smelling garment on the bed and glanced down at his chest. It was spotted with bruises, some darker then others - they were likely from the rocks he slammed down onto during his desperate attempt to reach his brother before he dropped off the edge of the cliff. The injuries Sam could see were not the least bit alarming, bruises on his chest and his left arm wrapped up like a mummy and tucked in a sling; it was the wounds that were out of his view that were the concern. His back felt tight, as though the skin over his spine would rip right in two if he were to do something as simple as bending over. He felt a deep throbbing ache in his lower back, which he figured to be the damaged kidney. He could feel agony lurking just below the surface and prayed the hazy fog of hospital-grade medication would not dissipate until after he got to Dean. Or better yet, until he was through ripping into his idiotic big brother.

Sam was thankful he didn't have an audience upon releasing a pitiful cry as he slid into the sweater, flinching when he tugged the warn material down into place. He didn't bother trying to get his arm out of the sling, instead he kept it snug against his chest and allowed the empty left sleeve to dangle at his side. Sam looked around the room, not spotting shoes or any other possessions. He shuffled toward the door, startling when it swung open, the nurse returning, looking just as furious as she had when she left. Sam tried not to shrink under her glare as he signed the necessary paper work and did his best not to flinch as she shoved a paper bag full of what rattled like pills against his chest.

"Go to the front desk, Anne can call your brother to come pick you up. Though I promise you he will not be happy about the foolish decision your making." The nurse ground out before she marched from the room.

Sam grimaced, she wasn't wrong. He knew Dean would be far from pleased, likely livid that he signed him self out AMA. But Sam didn't much care. He needed to see his brother, even if it was just to fight with him. Sam wanted to fight. He wanted to get everything out, to argue and bicker until the air was clear and he wanted to do it now while everything was still raw and at the surface. He didn't want to wait. Wait until everything was buried down deep again. He didn't want him and Dean to become distant again, he didn't want to leave things unresolved and allow them to damage the only relationship he had left. He wouldn't allow it.

Sam nodded along with his own internal conviction as he began to shuffle his way out into the hall. As much as the younger man wanted to call Dean to come pick him up, he knew his brother would fight against Sam's choice to leave the hospital. He also wanted to meet the hunter on a level playing field, one where he could stand his own ground, not where he was dependent on the older man, even for something as simple as a ride home – especially considering his entire argument was based very strongly on them being equal partners. An injured, shoeless Sam calling for his big brother to please come pick him up didn't exactly scream capable, dependable hunter.

The lady at the desk, Anne, was nice enough to call Sam a taxi, which nearly killed him to climb into. He couldn't recall the exact address for the cabin they had been inhabiting but was coherent enough to direct the driver to the location by observing the landmarks along the road. He didn't have a dime on him, so when they finished winding their way through the forested dirt road and pulled up to the wood cabin and parked behind the classic black vehicle, Sam was given his total and informed the driver that he had to go in and grab some cause and to wait just a minute. The older man nodded, thankfully not taking any apparent issue with the delay of payment.

Sam groaned as he stood from the cab, barely having enough strength to shut the back door as he swayed on his feet. He shuffled toward the set of five stairs that lead up to the cabin, grabbing on to the railing as he stared expectantly at the front door. He knew the ever-vigilante hunter inside had heard the car door close, regardless of how soft a sound it ended up being. Dean had probably heard the taxi make its slow arrival over the leaves and tree roots, unless perhaps the man had actually been asleep. Either way, Sam knew his brother would be checking the perimeter at any moment.

Dean did not disappoint, Sam saw the curtain over the front window flutter a second before the door was ripped open and his brother burst out onto the small porch. His soaking hair, the jeans just barely pulled up to his hips, the absence of a shirt, and the towel draped around his shoulders explained his delay at arriving on the scene.

"Sam? What the fuck are you doing here?" He shouted, his face tight with both anger and concern as he stormed down the steps.

"Need my wallet."

"You came all the way here from the hospital because you need your fucking wallet?" Dean barked in disbelief.

"No. But I need to pay the cab." Sam explained, gritting his teeth both out of pain and irritation as he nodded over his shoulder at the vehicle he assumed to be incredibly obvious.

Dean opened and closed his mouth, looking as though he wanted to say a million different things at once. Thankfully, he simply clenched his jaw and made his way back up the steps, disappearing inside for a moment before returning with his money clip, unfolding a couple bills, marching right past Sam and leaning into the open passenger window of the taxi to hand the driver the cash. He returned to Sam with just as much purpose, completely disregarding the call of gratitude from the driver and the cab's departure.

"What the hell are you doing out of the hospital?" Dean snapped.

Sam scowled, because he knew there was going to be a fight, but he really only had the energy for one, the one that mattered and leaving the hospital ahead of schedule sure as hell wasn't it. Besides, Dean had no right to question Sam's leaving. He left Sam alone. He walked off and took every ounce of the younger man's comfort and security with him. How could he possibly be pissed at Sam for seeking out what he needed to be okay?

His home.

Which just happened to be the entirety of his big brother.

It always had been, atleast, for as long as Sam could remember.

And yet somehow Dean thought that Sam could let him go.

The older man didn't seem to comprehend how impossible that was.

Because he was a fucking imbecile.

"Sam! What do you think you're doing here?"

Dean had always hated being ignored, especially by his kid brother, it was one of the few things that really used to set him off when they were kids. It was clear that hadn't changed.

"Fuck off, Dean."

But Sam had. He wasn't a child anymore. Dean didn't get to dictate his behaviour or discipline him or fucking tell him to _let go_.

Surprisingly, the elder Winchester didn't become enraged at the harsh exclamation and begin ripping in to Sam, because he wasn't John. No, Dean shrank away at the words. Because they hurt. Because Sam almost never said shit like that to the only person on the planet who was ever there for him. And unlike Sam and his father, Dean didn't become infuriated and cold when he was hurt, he became quiet. It had always broken Sam's heart to watch how his brother would go silent after he had been hurt by someone he cared about, and Sam hated that his words had just caused that same reaction.

But he was pissed and he had every goddamn right to be, and yeah, maybe he wasn't expressing his own hurt in the most mature way, but he was too tried and in too much pain to experience personal growth or exercise the proper level of self-control at that moment.

Sam used his white-knuckled grip on the railing to help pull his weighted body up onto the first step. He grit his teeth, trying to keep his breathing steady and easy as he mounted the second step. The movement, as minimal as it was, caused a flare of agony to scorch its way up his back. Sam couldn't stop the sharp inhale or the way his body wobbled off balance as he took on the third stair. He noticed his brother reach for him and flinched away from the approaching touch, nearly sending himself backwards down the few steps he had managed to mount.

"Don't." He warned, eyeing the outstretched arms to his left.

Dean made no verbal response, but his body froze. Sam returned his focus to his current task, climbing Mount fucking Everest. His first attempt at conquering the fourth step was unsuccessful, as was as his second, on his third try his foot slipped and nearly sent him down face first. A strong arm wrapped low around his hips as a large hand placed a gentle pressure high up against his chest, helping to straighten his body.

"Dean." The younger man growled, the knowledge that his brother had prevented him from kissing the ground doing little to ease Sam's anger.

The stabilizing hold pulled back for a mere nanosecond, before being re-applied with a firm, but gentle certainty.

"You can be pissed at me all you want, but I'm not going to watch you fall down the damn stairs." The elder Winchester bit out.

Sam tensed at the frustrated reaction and began to pull away, Dean's grip tightening in response. Sam resisted until Dean spoke again, his voice much softer than it had been just a moment ago.

"Just- just let me help you inside. You can hate me, you have every right to, just- can it wait until you're inside and sitting down?"

Sam stopped fighting the hold keeping him vertical, but he wasn't yet convinced.

"Please."

The whispered addition was the key to the stubborn man's cooperation. He nodded reluctantly and allowed his brother to support him up the last two steps, across the rotting porch and into the small cabin. Once Dean began to guide him towards the bed, Sam pulled away. The injured man wanted nothing more than to curl up on the semi-comfortable, almost-long-enough queen mattress, but he could feel the pain-numbing effects of the hospital-grade medication fading and knew he only had a matter of minutes left to make his argument before the agony overcame him.

"Sam?" Dean questioned, the concern blindingly evident, even in his impossibly soft tone.

The lean man wobbled a couple steps, stopping at the small table and latching with his right hand on to the back of one of the four wooden chairs around it. He used it to prop himself up, the bend in his back causing his numerous wounds to flare-up in pain, but he pushed it out of his mind, needing to focus.

"Buddy, we need to get you sitting or lying or anything not standing right now." Dean stated, his hands reaching once again for his little brother.

"No. I need to say something first." Sam declared, his voice raspy from days without use but still strong enough to convey his adamant refusal.

"I know what you're going to say, man, it can wait until after I make sure you didn't burst any stiches on your trip here."

"You don't know and I'm not waiting. I've waited long enough." Sam stated, twitching in discomfort but not allowing the confidence in his decision to waver.

Dean wanted to argue, Sam knew the man well enough to know how much he would hate having to wait around to play nurse to an injured little brother. Sam watched the internal debate playout on the freckled face, relieved when it ended in the reluctant closing of Dean's jaw and two wary green eyes meeting Sam's hazel ones.

Sam took a deep breath, willing his body to cooperate with him long enough to get out everything he needed to say.

"You're an idiot." He declared, the rasp in his voice not minimizing in the least the gravity in his tone. Usually when Sam called his brother names he was joking, but not this time. This time he was dead serious.

"I know." Dean nodded, sounding damn near understanding.

"No. You don't. You don't know." Sam argued, not surprised to see his older brother's eyebrows rise in response, Dean proving all the more what a blockhead he was. Sam ignored the throbbing ache travelling from his back throughout the rest of his body and willed himself to continue before that ache became an unavoidable burn. "Why do you think I'm pissed at you?" He questioned, nearly certain of the answer he was about to receive, but needing it to be stated aloud nonetheless.

Dean's jaw clenched, his gaze wandering avoidantly, none of which bothered Sam; his brother had never been a fan of uncomfortable conversations, least of all ones that involved any sliver of emotion.

"Come on, Sam. I don't want to play this game." The older man requested. Sam held back a wince, his brother's comment sounding far too close to a plea, something that rarely happened and always caused the younger Winchester to cave. But Sam shook his head, he wasn't giving this up or letting it go, they needed to talk before they both buried their hurt so damn deep that it put distance between them.

Again.

Besides, Dean crossed a line and he needed to understand that.

"It's not a game. Just tell me." He bit out.

Dean released an exasperated sigh, the way he often did when he was humouring his little brother, but the nervous energy he was exuding was not nearly as familiar.

"Because I screwed up and I almost got you fucking killed." Dean admitted, sounding furious as his expression clouded in disgust. Sam knew that both those emotions were things Dean was pointing towards himself, and yet the youngest Winchester found himself almost wishing that they were aimed at him instead. Dean was disgusted with his own failure – or what he perceived to be a failure. He was infuriated by his own short-comings. The way he saw it was that he screwed up, he made a mistake and he hated himself for it. He had all the grace in the world for his little brother, something that had been one of the many defining realities of Sam's childhood – that no matter how he fucked up, his big brother would always forgive him and always be there for him. Dean had endless grace that he extended towards Sam on countless occasions, but when it came to himself, he was merciless. It was something about his big brother that had always broken Sam's heart, and it was one of the main reasons that Sam fucking hated their father.

Sam had a lot of issues with John Winchester. The man was a tyrant. It was his way or no way. He didn't ever take a single goddamn moment to listen. And as much as Sam knew his father loved his sons and how many people the elder hunter had saved, Sam still saw him as a selfish bastard. There were a multitude of reasons why Sam did not get along John, there were years of a combative history that contributed to the strained relationship between the two. There was a lot of bitterness and hurt and a truckload of anger, but the biggest and most significant reason that Sam didn't believe he would ever truly be able to forgive his father, was for what that drill sergeant had done to Sam's big brother.

John had never allowed Dean to make a mistake. He had drilled it into the younger man that there was no room for mistakes or flaws of fucking humanity in hunting or in life. John had been so bloody critical of Dean growing up. He had expected way too damn much of his oldest, even when Dean was just a kid.

A child who needed love and support and guidance and a drop of **grace** , instead of constant criticism, unattainable expectations, unrelenting pressure and harsh treatment.

John was the reason Dean beat himself up for not living up to an impossible standard of perfection, the reason Dean refused to forgive himself for ever making a single error, for being _human_!

There were a lot of transgressions that Sam knew he would one day have to get over and forgive his father for, for the sake of his family, but he knew that he would never truly be able to forgive the man for what he did to his big brother - his best friend, his guardian, his whole fucking world.

"You're wrong." Sam declared, his voice still as gravelly as it had been since he woke up in the hospital, but entirely certain.

Dean had been looking down at his feet, the way he often did when he was ripping into himself, but his head shot up and his bright green eyes flashed confusion over at the man across from him.

"What?" He asked, sounding as though he was curious about his little brother's sanity.

"I'm not pissed at you because you almost fell of a fricken cliff, Dean." Sam bit out, shifting on his feet as the pain in his back began to escalate. "You didn't do anything wrong. You didn't screw up."

Dean's expression morphed to one of frustration as he rolled his eyes. "Come on, man. Don't do that."

"Do what?" Sam challenged, already knowing in which direction his brother was heading with that comment.

Dean gave him a knowing look, it was damn near parental – Sam had always internally entitled it as his big brother's 'cut the bullshit' look. "You want to do this, that's fine. But if you want me to be honest then you have to do the same."

"I am!" Sam exclaimed, his irritation rising.

"Be real here, Sam. You know how you are." Dean replied softly.

"And how is that, exactly?" The younger man bit-out, annoyed that the conversation was taking a turn he did not anticipate or appreciate.

Dean shrugged, his gaze shifting about, he was obviously uncomfortable about whatever he was going to say. Sam was okay with that.

"You never think anything is my fault. You've always been that way." Dean mumbled with a shrug.

"Then why the hell would you think I'm so pissed at you for nearly falling off a cliff?" Sam queried.

Another evasive shrug did nothing to satisfy the younger man, so he waited for his big brother to give an actual response.

"I don't know. I thought maybe things changed. You're not a kid anymore. I figured now that you're older you'd notice when I fuck up, especially when it almost gets you killed."

Sam didn't think he could possibly feel more wounded then he already did, between his physical anguish and the three words Dean had spoken that were causing Sam emotional agony, he didn't imagine there was room for more pain; and yet, the fact that his big brother thought that their time apart and a few extra years was enough of a reason for Sam to start treating him like shit, well that tore at the young man in a whole new way.

"I'm not Dad." Sam ground out.

Dean looked back up at that.

"I'm _not_ him. I wouldn't crucify you for making a mistake. _If_ you had made one, which you didn't, but if you had, I wouldn't yell at you or ice you out or be fucking pissed at you. I would never- I will _never_ hold stupid mistakes _or_ colossal fuck-ups against you. How do you not know that?" Sam was nearly out of breath, shaking with the passion of his argument.

Dean's mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out.

"You never _ever_ ripped me a new one for screwing up, even though I did it more than anyone."

"No. You didn't."

"I did. I fucked up more than you and Dad combined."

"You were a _child_ , Sam. You were _learning_ and you did learn, fast as hell. You were fucking amazing." Dean defended, because God-forbid the man lift a finger in his own defense, but the second Sam was on trial Dean was ready to light fire to the entire courtroom.

"But I still screwed up. Hell, I still do now, all the time."

"You just got back into the game. It's going to take some time to get back into the swing of things."

Sam shook his head, a part of him grateful for his brother's never-ending grace and the other part irritated that Dean wasn't getting it.

"It doesn't matter how much I learn or how long I hunt, I'm still human and so are you. And even though I hate messing up, I never worry about you being pissed at me for it. I worried about Dad tearing me a new one, I worried about getting one of you killed, I worried about letting you both down, but I never once worried about you being angry. Not once. And I – well I guess I just thought…" Sam swallowed, trying to rid of the lump in his throat, refusing to allow his emotions to overwhelm him because he was still pissed about what Dean had said on that cliff. "I just figured you knew it went both ways." He finished with a mumble and a shrug.

"I did- I _do_."

Sam shook his head in dismissal, because that obviously wasn't the case.

"I mean it, Sam. No matter how bad I screwed up you never held it against me. You've always forgiven too easy and if it had been up to you, I never would have had to take the blame for a single damn thing, even the things I was one-hundred percent guilty of. Don't think for one goddamn second that I don't know that, or that it never mattered. Because it always fucking did."

"Then why the hell did you think I was pissed at you?" Sam questioned, nearly yelling out of sheer frustration, not having a lick of understanding where Dean's reasoning was coming from.

"Because you were!" The older man exclaimed, matching Sam's raised volume.

Sam opened his mouth to shout back. To tell his brother exactly why he was pissed and that, yes, it had been Dean's goddamn fault. It had been his fault for opening his stupid mouth and spouting those three bullshit words that had torn Sam's heart right the fuck out of his chest. He opened his mouth to spell it all out to his moron of a brother.

But the universe had always had it in for the youngest Winchester and refused to allow him even the simplest of favours.

At the very moment Sam was about to finally get this shit off his chest, to finally release the hurt and rage that had been eating him up inside, to _finally_ allow him to begin the argument that he needed to have and to fix what needed to be fixed. He was finally going to have the conversation he had dragged his damaged body across town to have, but his legs chose that moment to buckle. The muscles in his back failing him and turning him into a giant ragdoll. His strength chose that moment to abandon him and left him to gasp as the floor rushed up to meet him.

Sam braced for impact, but calloused hands halted his decent. However, the relief was short-lived, as stabilizing as those hands were, one of them pressed against one of the wounds on Sam's back, sending a fire of pain through his entire frame.

Sam cried out in agony, his body jerking in a feeble attempt to escape the pain that was consuming him.

"Whoah, easy, Sam. I'm sorry. I won't touch your back again. I promise. Just stop moving, let me get you to the bed."

Sam clenched his teeth and forced himself to keep from pulling away as Dean practically carried him to the bed. The injured man failed to bite back a sob as he was lowered onto the mattress. He attempted to curl up onto his right side, only to have Dean stop him.

"Keep your back straight, buddy."

Sam groaned, knowing the advice was wise, but hating that he could do nothing to ease the agony scorching through him. He had to lay there and ride it out. His long frame shook as he waited for the pain to subside, or at least fade to a more bearable degree.

"Fuck, I should have got you lying down when you got here. Or better yet, you should have stayed in the freakin hospital."

Sam wanted to tell his brother to fuck off, but he knew if he unlocked his jaw the only sounds that would escape would be noises of anguish, so instead he closed his eyes and focussed on breathing through the pain.

"Just ride it out, little brother. It'll be better in a minute. I promise." Dean encouraged softly as Sam felt a cool cloth being spread over his forehead.

The pain began to edge away, leaving Sam's body feeling utterly depleted, even his eyelids were too heavy to lift.

"Just get some rest, Sammy. It'll be better when you wake up."

Sam would have snorted in derision if he had one drop of energy left, but all he was able to do was submit to his body's demand for rest and give himself over to sleep.

As his limbs grew impossibly heavier and his mind began to cloud, Sam braced himself for the nightmares he knew were soon to bombard him. Though this time he knew he wouldn't see Jess burning above him, but rather Dean dangling below him. He knew he wouldn't be haunted by his girlfriend asking him why, but rather his brother begging him to do the impossible.

Sam cringed as those three fucking words followed him into unconsciousness.


	3. Chapter 3

Note: Not going to lie, I totally meant to post this on Thursday and I got so deep into editing More Than Enough that I totally forgot :s My bad! Sorry it took so long to finish this fic, it was supposed to be a one-shot. In my defence this chapter is ridiculously long, it was supposed to be a third of the length.

* * *

 _Let me go._

 _No, Dean. Hang onto me, please!_

 _Let me go._

 _I won't!_

"Sam?"

 _The younger man ignored the call that seemed to come from so far away, and remained focussed on holding his brother_

 _Let me go._

 _Never, Sam vowed, squinting to see Dean through the tears clouding his gaze._

"C'mon, Sam."

 _The voice sounded closer now, but the young hunter disregarded it, though it did nag in the back of his mind how familiar it was – however the feeling of his big brother slipping through his fingers snagged all his focus._

 _Let me go._

 _Please, Dean. Please don't do this! Sam was openly sobbing, pain throbbing through his body as he tried and failed to pull his brother up over the escarpment._

 _Sammy, let me go._

 _Those were the last words spoken before Dean dropped, falling endlessly, the ground having vanished, leaving Sam's long fingers grasping at air._

 _Noooo! He screamed as he watched his entire world disappear._

"SAM!"

The young hunter slammed into consciousness, the sound of his own scream fading in his ears, as he felt one large hand wrap around his left hip and another enclose his right arm just above his elbow.

"Easy, buddy. Take it easy. You're safe, it was just a nightmare. You're safe."

Sam was instantly overloaded, all his senses coming back online at once. He was sitting up, something he couldn't remember doing, his back was in agony and his left shoulder was throbbing in time with his heartbeat. He couldn't see much through his teary gaze, but he knew his brother was seated on the bed next to his knees and that the older man's grip was the only thing keeping Sam upright. He could hear the whirr of the coffee maker, the whistle of the wind through the trees outside, and the pounding of the rain dumping on to the roof. The intensity of the dream colliding with the vividness of reality was all too much for Sam and he just needed a minute, one fricken minute to separate the two and get himself oriented.

Sam stretched forward, wishing he could use both hands but glancing down to see a sling entrapping his left limb. He used his functioning right arm and reached for his brother's chest, touching the well-worn cotton t-shirt and feeling around until his fingertips grazed the small lump of the amulet hidden beneath the thin fabric, he gripped it tight and allowed himself to slump forward.

He heard his brother release a soft _oomph_ as Sam's forehead connected with his collarbone. He could feel Dean's hesitation to adjust to the close contact, something that surprised Sam, but he supposed the distance between them had already managed to do some damage – which is why the younger man had been so hell-bent on ridding of it. After a moment he felt one of his brother's hands move up to the back of his head and slide beneath his hair, squeezing comfortingly.

Sam relaxed under the familiar touch, breathing in the scent of home as he anchored himself in his big brother.

"I'm here, Sammy. I'm here."

Sometimes Dean knew just what to say to ease his younger brother's fears, which was ironic because this time around it was something that the older man had said that had ignited Sam's fears to begin with. The thought reminding Sam of the conversation that still needed to be had.

He allowed a few more minutes for him to ground himself in home and safety, in Dean; before reluctantly lifting his head off the strong frame, wiping the lingering tears from his eyes, and looking at his big brother.

"You wanna know why I was pissed at you?" He rasped, belatedly realizing he said _was_ , but not bothering to correct himself because he really didn't have the energy to feel as ornery as he had been.

"Yeah. I do." Dean admitted gruffly with a nod. "But first I want to make sure you didn't bust any stiches catapulting up in bed the way you just did." He elaborated, helping to situate Sam on his right side before moving behind him. Sam shivered as his sweater was pulled up and twitched in discomfort when the tape being removed tugged at his skin and the wound was exposed to the cool air as the bandages were pulled away one by one.

"Fuck."

Sam knew the meaning behind the curse before Dean elaborated but waited for his brother to clarify anyhow.

"The laceration by your kidney looks sore, but it's fine, the one higher up is a bit of a mess. I'm going to have to clean it up and redo some of these stiches."

Sam grunted, he'd figured as much. His back had felt tight as hell since he'd woken up in the hospital, and he couldn't imagine his sudden movements hadn't caused his skin to pull at the wound.

"We need to take this sweater off, it's got blood on it." The older man declared, sounding damn near sympathetic, probably because it was going to hurt like a bitch. "I was going to try and get it off you earlier so I could check on your shoulder, but I didn't want to wake you up. You looked like shit, still do."

"Thanks." Sam snorted with a roll of his eyes, his brother had always shown concern in the most compassionate of ways.

The taller man groaned as Dean helped him extract himself from his sweater, Sam was glad he hadn't tried to force his messed up left arm through the sleeve, because that would have made the process far more painful. Once the hoodie was removed and tossed aside, Dean had the medkit open and ready to go in a matter of seconds and was quickly taking disinfected tweezers to the opened injury, Sam could feel the tug of broken stiches being pulled from his skin.

"This is a mess. You should have stayed in the hospital." Dean grumbled.

Sam hissed as a disinfectant wipe was used on the injury, before the poking and prodding proceeded, but made an effort not to flinch away from the touch causing the discomfort.

"I would have stayed if you hadn't left." Sam responded with a grunt, being more honest then he had intended, too exhausted to sensor himself.

He noticed Dean pause behind him, only for a moment, before he continued his doctoring.

"I was there the whole time, but when you woke up I- I didn't think you wanted me around. You were pretty angry." He mumbled.

"Yeah, I was pissed, that didn't mean I wanted you to leave." Sam bit out, because that had never been the case. Even back when he had been an angry, angst-ridden teen – in his fury he often wanted to get away from John, but never Dean.

He had never once in his life wanted his big brother to leave.

Not fucking once.

"You pulled away from me." Dean nearly whispered.

"Yeah, I was angry." Sam rasped, swallowing a hiss as he felt a needle slide through his skin.

"That was later. The first time – after you woke up – you flinched. Like you were scared." The older man sounded nearly haunted by the idea as Sam felt him tying off the first stich.

The younger man squinted at the cabin wall, attempting to ignore the sickening feeling of his skin being sewn back together, as he tried to recall waking up – something he knew had only happened earlier that evening, considering it was still dark outside, but seemed like it had been days ago. He wandered through the maze in his mind until he found what his brother had spoken about.

"I was scared, but not of you. When I woke up in that bed the last thing I remembered was a bunch of hands holding me down, all the contact had been rough and painful, so when I felt you grip my hip I just reacted." Sam explained, nearly shaking his head at the fact that only his big brother could find a way to blame himself for Sam's instinctual physical reactions. "I've never been afraid of you, Dean." He added, softer this time, understanding how much it would hurt Dean to even think that the kid he spent his entire life protecting feared him in any way, shape, or form; though it baffled the younger man how his brother's mind could ever manage to conjure up such an absurd notion.

Dean went quiet for a moment, sliding the needle back through Sam's skin silently before clearing his throat and speaking.

"Well, I wouldn't have left if I'd known you would trek all the way over here just to see me." The hunter mumbled.

"I didn't come here to see you, I came to fight with you." Sam claimed, partly to save face and partially out of honesty.

"And how'd that work out for you?"

Sam rolled his eyes at the sarcasm, breathing a gentle sigh of relief as his wound was re-bandaged, the stitching process finally finished.

"It would have worked out better if I hadn't had to waste so much time trying to get it through your thick head that _everything_ is not your fault." Sam grunted, trying to force his body to relax, though the endless pain pulsing through it was making that difficult.

"But something is." Dean surmised, moving back to drop into the kitchen chair that had been pushed right up to the bed. Because of course that was where Dean had sat the entire time Sam had been unconscious, and yet the asshole left the kid in the hospital _alone_ like it was no issue.

"Yeah, two things actually." Sam responded, shifting around a little before reaching out to his big brother, thankful that Dean immediately understood what he needed so that the younger man didn't have to verbally request help to sit up. Asking for any help had always been beyond difficult for Sam, but asking for help to perform a task as basic as sitting up would have been impossible. Dean had always understood that about his little brother, which was why he often acted before Sam ever had to ask and Sam had always tried to do the same for the older Winchester in return. It was one of the many realities of their relationship the went unspoken – no please or thank you required - it was simply understood. There were other things Sam had thought were understood as well, like the fact that they were _partners_ and that they would do anything for each other, and that neither of them would ever let the other one drop off the edge of a fucking cliff to save his own skin. But it would seem that those things were not an unspoken understanding because Dean didn't seem to be getting it.

Sam groaned, the fingers on his right hand digging into Dena's forearm as he was slowly pulled up into a seated position.

"Try not to curl your back at all. Your skin is too tight and your muscles can't handle being stretched right now."

Sam nodded as he waited for Dean to finish arranging the pillows against the headboard, before helping ease him back against it. He couldn't relax fully into the cushioned surface without it placing too much painful pressure on his wounds, meaning he had to maintain some level of posture on his own to avoid the additional discomfort.

"Did you get another dose of pain meds at the hospital before you took off?" Dean questioned.

Sam nodded, breathing slow and steady, doing his best to keep his back straight, though the rigid posture had his left shoulder complaining. "They gave me some meds, not sure where they went though." Sam recalled after a moment.

"They were in your sweatshirt pocket, they fell out when I got you lying down. If they topped you up before you left though, we've got to wait at least a couple of hours until we crack open those pills." Dean stated sympathetically.

Sam winced, not wanting to think of how much stronger the throbbing in his frame would be in a couple hours. Luckily, he had an argument to distract himself with.

"So, what did I do?" Dean questioned, sounding far too resigned for Sam's liking. He didn't want it to be a beat-down, he wanted a fair fight.

"You remember what you said to me?" Sam replied, his heartrate already responding to his returning fury.

Dean's scrunched up expression told Sam that, no, he didn't have a clue what he had said to ignite his little brother's rage. Which, for some reason, pissed the younger man off all the more.

"You told me to let you go." He nearly growled, just saying those words was enough to send panic racing through his soul.

"Yeah, cause you were going to die."

Sam was glad for the frustration he could clearly detect in Dean's tone, it was easier to fight with someone who fought back, but it was impossible to ignore the way his brother's voice cracked on the last word.

"No, but you almost did because you wouldn't hold on. I could've pulled you up faster if I hadn't been doing all the damn work." Sam declared, not knowing for certain it was the truth but making a relatively safe assumption.

Dean rolled his eyes as he shook his head, because apparently neither of those reactions were sufficient enough on their own to express his frustration.

"That's seriously why you're pissed?" Dean questioned, his tone making it clear how ridiculous he thought that to be.

Sam glared in return, because he figured it was pretty damn clear.

"You're fucking kidding me, right?" The older man blurted as he shot to his feet. "My screw up almost gets you killed and then I ditch you in the hospital, but what you're most pissed off about is me telling you to let me go? What you have such a problem with is me trying to keep you alive? Something I have _always_ done my entire damn life."

"I don't have a problem with you keeping me alive. I have a problem with you ordering me to practically kill you and trying to convince me that it's fucking okay." Sam shouted, his chest heaving as he glared at his older brother.

Dean's mouth opened and closed as he visibly searched for a response. The anger had faded from his expression and though there were a couple lines of sympathy now creasing his face, Sam could tell he still wasn't about to receive an apology. He knew just by looking at his big brother, that Dean still thought he was in the right. Sympathy was not an admission of guilt, though it did often aid in pacifying fury.

"Look, man, I know that wasn't easy to hear and it wasn't an easy thing for me to ask of you—

"Easy? Try impossible, you bastard." Sam seethed.

Dean's eyebrows climbed, evidently taken aback by the insult or the degree of anger Sam was exhibiting, likely both.

"Don't you think you're being a bit dramatic here, kiddo?" Dean commented, his tone soft as he attempted to soothe the injured man, something Sam did not appreciate. He was so sick of the double standard he had been forced to put up with his entire life.

"You're such a hypocrite." He accused with venom in his voice, forcing himself not to care when hurt flashed across the elder Winchester's face.

Dean made no response to the accusation, but Sam could tell by the way his whole body keyed up, that his brother was angry.

"You think I'm being dramatic?! Do you even remember how you reacted when I pulled the same stupid stunt with you?"

The averted gaze and firm press of Dean's lips told Sam that yes, his brother did recall exactly what he had mentioned.

"When we were kids - I was like sixteen or something, I don't know – we were clearing that house that was on fire – the one dad had been watching; he was checking over the upstairs and we were doing a sweep of the main level when I fell through the floor. And you-"

"You were fifteen. And yeah – Sam, I remember. I don't need the recap."

Sam nodded, watching as the pair of green eyes grew distant as Dean evidently was reliving the past. Sam, in turn, stopped trying to keep the memory at bay, allowing it to wash over him as he knew it had been trying to do since the moment he heard those three stupid words.

 _Sam coughed and stumbled as he struggled to see his brother, blinking rapidly in a meager attempt to clear his vision._

 _He tried to call out for Dean, but as soon as he opened his mouth all he did was choke on the smoke that flooded his lungs._

 _The hacking wouldn't end and the lack of oxygen had Sam doubling over, his hands flying out searching for something to grab onto before he hit the floor. His fingers found nothing but empty air, leaving the young teen to brace for impact – and then suddenly, Dean was there._

 _Sam instantly recognized the strong hands that caught him and pulled him up into a vertical position. The coughing had yet to come to an end and left the smaller boy digging his fingers into his brother's forearms as he leaned into the firm body planted steadily in front of him._

" _Where the fuck were you? I told you to stay behind me!" Dean shouted, his hold strong and stabilizing as he pulled Sam away from his chest and leaned down to meet his face._

" _I couldn't see you!" Sam hollered in reply, his voice scraping out between coughs._

" _Fuck, Sammy, you're too goddamn short. You can't see over this shit at all can you?"_

 _Sam shook his head, because no, he couldn't. He couldn't see a fucking thing. He was nearly a foot shorter than the older boy, which seemed to be enough to make a difference in his ability to see over the smoke._

" _Alright, well I can. I'm going to get us out of here, but you need to stay with me this time. Don't go getting left behind and scaring the shit out of me like you just did."_

 _Sam nodded, coughing again, watching as Dean pulled a bandana from his pocket and standing patiently as it was tied around his face._

" _Leave that on and hold onto me. I'm gonna get us out of this damn ashtray."_

 _Sam reached forward and gripped the back of Dean's jacket, nodding up at the older boy who was staring down at him waiting for him to give the okay. Because Dean always did that. John would dish out orders and then charge ahead into the night not giving a moment's consideration to anyone else's readiness or opinions, but that wasn't Dean. Dean made requests, sometimes urgent ones, and then he waited for Sam to agree or disagree – he answered any and all questions the younger boy came up with, without ever making Sam feel like a nuisance. Sam's response mattered to Dean, he listened to the younger boy and he saw him, which meant a lot to a kid who felt like he was invisible a majority of his life – a kid who had spent his entire existence breezing in and out of towns without leaving so much as a scratch – a kid who's version of a good day at school meant going entirely unnoticed. To Sam, being seen meant an awful lot. Dean always took the time to acknowledge the youngest Winchester and take his thoughts into account, even when they were standing in the middle of a burning building._

 _Sam nodded up at his big brother, his grip tightening around the warm leather in his grasp, he didn't want to be left behind – a fear that had forever been hidden in his heart. He did find comfort in knowing that even if he got lost in the smoke, Dean would always come back for him – which was why Sam's real fear had always been losing his brother, because that would be the only way he could truly be left behind. If there was no Dean to find him, no Dean to hold onto, no Dean to be his anchor or his home – that was the only scenario in which Sam would truly be left behind._

 _The smoke was growing thicker as they made their way through the house. The heat was seeping through Sam's shoes, his feet hot as he quickly realized that the fire must be beneath them – not on the top floor as John had assumed - which also explained with the smoke was low, though it was rapidly rising._

 _Dean cursed, Sam running into him as the older teen came to a sudden stop, he quickly began to move again, diverting their path slightly as he seemed to be moving around whatever it was he had run into, his large right hand reaching back and grazing over one of the hands Sam was using to cling to Dean's jacket and settling around the younger boy's thin wrist. Sam moved closer in response, accidently stepping on Dean's heels – something his brother never got annoyed with, which was surprising considering how often Sam did it, especially when they were hunting; the younger boy figured perhaps Dean never complained about it because it always meant Sam was trying to stay close and that was something Dean always wanted him to do. The few times Sam had made the same clumsy move with his father he had been on the receiving end of an annoyed glare or a lecture about the importance of physical dexterity when hunting. But not Dean._

 _Dean's only response to his kid brother walking up on the back of his feet, was to tighten his grasp on the kid's wrist as the two continued their journey through the house. The floor groaned beneath their feet, and though old wood floors tended to creak and moan on the best of days, Sam knew the sound to be concerning – though he wasn't able to give it much consideration, before he was falling._

 _Sam didn't even have time to cry out before the ground disappeared, his mind immediately bracing for an impact that never came._

 _It took a moment for the younger boy to register the fact that he was dangling, nothing but air beneath his legs that were kicking in an aimless search for purchase. He swayed, the heat and the smoke surrounding him as he glanced down to see blinding light below him. The fire was roaring beneath Sam's twitching feet, the heat seeping through his shoes, as the smoke filled his lungs – the bandana having fallen from its place over his mouth to hang uselessly around his neck. Sam hacked, causing his body to sway even more, he winced as he felt his elbow pop painfully, quickly realizing why the moment he looked up. Dean was looking down at him from over the edge of the hole in the floor and the only thing that was preventing Sam from dropping into the raging fire was the grip his older brother had on his right wrist._

" _I got you, Sammy." Dean ground out, his grip strengthening to such a degree that Sam figured his wrist might snap right off._

 _The younger boy nodded as he tried and failed to take a deep breath, the smoke invading his throat and burning its way through his esophagus._

" _Dean." He choked out his brother's name, his neck bent back as he looked up at the older hunter._

" _I got you." The teen promised unnecessarily._

 _Sam flinched, his slim frame jerking as he felt the heat scorching his feet; the spastic movement caused him to drop lower, still far from the floor below but closer to the fire that was ravaging the basement. Sam looked up to see that his brother had slipped just a little further over the edge of the shattered wood surface – which explained why Sam had dropped lower because naturally Dean's grip had not loosened enough to allow the younger boy to slide through it, not even an inch._

 _The newly-formed crater in the floor was providing the fire with additional oxygen that seemed to be all the beast needed to grow at a rapid rate. The flames had made their way up to the main floor and were licking hungrily at Dean's jacket._

" _Give me your other hand!" Dean hollered, the roar of the fire making his shout sound far more like a whisper – though Sam heard it none the less. He had grown-up attuned to his big brother's voice and had difficulty imagining a situation where the familiar tone would go unnoticed by his ears._

 _Sam reached up with his left hand, stretching to meet the long fingers extending down towards him. He groaned, his fingertips barely grazing his brother's, Sam's arms were too damn short - just like the rest of him._

" _C'mon, Sammy!" Dean yelled in support, sounding as nearly as desperate as Sam was beginning to feel as the younger boy both watched and felt the fire moving closer._

 _Sam swung himself in the elder teen's grip, the momentum allowing him to finally get his left hand into Dean's grasp._

" _That's my boy." Dean commented, his face strained as he began to try to pull Sam up over the wooden ledge. Because even in the middle of a life or death situation, while time was sensitive and danger was still very imminent – Dean took a moment to praise his kid._

 _Sam would never stop being grateful for his big brother._

 _Dean began to shimmy backwards, slowly pulling Sam further up in the process. Just as the younger teenager thought he was about to be in the clear, he heard something he had heard so seldom before that it sounded nearly foreign to his ears – and yet he could recognize it anywhere._

 _Dean Winchester's scream._

 _It wasn't a cry of panic or horror – but of agony._

 _Fear speared through Sam's heart. A fear he hadn't felt dangling over a fire, a fear that hadn't been present in the least even when he could feel the bottom of his feet beginning to burn – a fear that had only ever arisen at the sight or sound of his big brother, his hero, in jeopardy._

 _He knew the fire had reached Dean. He had seen the flames approaching him, but he hadn't been able to see what was happening up over the edge._

 _Dean was burning. He was burning alive._

 _Because of Sam._

 _The younger teen didn't give it more than a moment's thought before releasing his hold on his brother. His hand going limp in his brother's grasp as he slid a little further over the edge. Dean cried out again, his body shuttering, his left hand contracting for less than a second- which was just enough for Sam's fingers to fall away, but his right hand remained locked around the younger boy's thin wrist. Sam swallowed a gasp as he swung rapidly to the right, his elbow popping as all his body weight dangled from one limb._

" _Sam!" Dean growled through clenched teeth, his fury coming across loud and clear – even through the pain lining his expression. The youngest Winchester shook his head, he had heard the demand in his brother's voice and it was one he refused to follow, because it was one that was going to get Dean killed._

 _Sam flinched as he felt the fire biting through his shoes, the heat becoming too much as he struggled to take in a breath past the smoke. He knew Dean was fighting to breathe and the way his older brother was shaking made it clear the agony was still very present – the fire still had him._

 _Sam dropped a little closer to the growing flames as Dean slipped further over the edge, both his shoulders now in view as he placed his left hand on the broken wood floor to keep from sliding anymore._

 _Sam knew he had to do something soon; Dean was going to get pulled right over the edge with him – if he didn't get fried alive first. Because the moron would do that. He would allow the fire to destroy him before releasing his hold on Sam._

 _Which was equal parts comforting and horrifying._

 _That was why Sam knew he had to take this on himself. He had to make sure that Dean got out of this alive, which meant getting the older boy to do the one thing he had never done, let Sam fall._

" _Dean, it's okay." Sam choked out, squinting up at his brother's face._

 _Even through the smoke, Sam watched as Dean's eyes squinted for a moment in confusion before quickly widening in what the young teen recognized to be both shock and horror._

" _Don't you fucking dare." He seethed, sounding as dangerous as he did when he was threatening the things that went bump in the night or anything that ever tried to get its hands on his kid._

 _It was the first time in his life that Sam was ever the recipient of that much anger coming from his big brother – his father was another story entirely, but Dean had never directed such fury at Sam, not once. It took the younger boy by surprise, and had he not been dangling precariously over a fucking fire it would have upset him, or at least taken him a couple minutes to digest. Unfortunately, Sam didn't have time for any of that emotional shit and – more importantly – neither did his big brother. As if on cue, Dean released another cry, his body going tense in what had to be agony, the hand around Sam's wrist clenching so tightly it was damn near bone crushing._

 _Sam used the distraction of his brother's pain to try and worm his way out of his grip, he kicked his feet, swaying in the air. His attempt to dislodge himself did not go unnoticed by the elder Winchester, who growled his little brother's name under his breath before trying and failing to pull the teen up over the edge._

" _It's not going to work." Sam choked out, smoke filling his lungs, causing him to hack and cough, which resulted in more swaying – which he didn't get in trouble for this time around because it wasn't intentional._

 _Sam looked up, heaving in air that was more fumes then oxygen, his eyes watering as he squinted up through the smoke to his brother. Dean's gaze was filled with fear and terror and unbelievable pain, everything that Sam never wanted to see in those two bright green orbs. Sam didn't have the power to fix this deadly situation. He didn't have the power to save himself – he could barely breathe._

 _But he did have the power to save Dean._

 _And that was enough._

 _He began to twist his wrist and sway his body once again, knowing he needed to get Dean to release him before they both fell into the fire below._

" _Sam!" Dean tried to shout through a cough as he choked on smoke._

" _It's okay, Dean. It's okay." Sam promised, knowing that Dean would need those words in the future. After the anger and the grief, he would need to know that Sam didn't blame him, that it wasn't his fault, that it was what Sam wanted._

 _The older boy's body shook with pain and strain and what was bound to be exhaustion as he held on to Sam, pulling him up a couple inches before his arm gave up and returned to its overextended position – dropping the teen back down closer to the fire that was biting at his legs._

" _It's okay. Let me go, De. Let me go." Sam rasped out._

 _It wasn't as though he wanted to die – especially that way. It was simply that Sam knew that his brother trying to pull him up wouldn't work, Dean was stronger and Sam wasn't much in the height or weight department for his age, but he was still fifteen and lifting him up with one arm would be difficult on a good day – it would be impossible with the older boy weakened and injured and barely able to suck in a breath without hacking his lungs out. Dean was going to die trying to save his little brother._

 _And that wasn't okay with Sam._

 _The youngest Winchester was doomed, he knew as much – but he'd be damned if he allowed the same fate to befall his big brother._

 _He twisted as much as he could, kicking out his legs, swaying back and forth – doing everything in his power to free himself from Dean's hold, being sure to avoid looking into the pair of horrified green eyes._

 _He heard his brother begging him to stop, but allowed the roar of the fire to drown out that desperate tone of voice that would normally cause him to cave. Sam couldn't block out his own scream as agony seared through his elbow. In the back of his mind the teenager recognized both the sound and feel of the joint being ripped out of place, but in the moment all he registered was the pain._

 _The dislocation was bad enough, but to continue dangling from his right arm with his elbow out of place was an entirely new level of anguish. Sam could feel his feet burning and his legs being singed as the fire flared viciously beneath him. The pain became too much and suddenly Sam was vomiting, sickness splattering onto his front as he swayed side-to-side from the force of his heaving._

" _Fuck! Hold on, Sam. Hold on." Dean commanded, as Sam tried as best he could to inhale a shuttering breath. Even through the chaos, Sam could still hear the agony in his brother's voice, and he nearly hurled again at the thought of what damage the fire was doing to Dean. "Grab my hand!" Dean shouted down at the younger boy, his left hand releasing the anchoring hold he had on the the floor and reaching demandingly down at the dangling teenager._

 _Sam shook his head, feeling himself slip lower as Dean slid even further over the edge._

" _Sam, I'm not letting you go. If you get away from me, if you go over, I'll jump down after you. Don't think for one fucking second that I won't. Grab my hand_ _ **now**_ _, before we both burn to death."_

 _The reality of Dean's words was like a slap to Sam's face. It was a truth he had always known deep down inside, but never dared to actively ponder. Dean would die for Sam, that had always been both frighteningly and comfortingly, as well as blindingly clear, but he would also die_ _ **with**_ _Sam. A reality the youngest Winchester had always done his best to disregard, because it hurt too fucking much to think about._

 _Sam realized he couldn't save Dean by twisting free from his grip. The only thing he could do, the only plan of action that had any chance of keeping his brother safe and alive, was if he somehow found the strength to pull Sam to safety. And only in the unfortunate life of a Winchester would the unstable floor of a burning house be considered safety, Sam nearly rolled his eyes in response to his only melodramatic train of thought as he reached up with his left hand in an effort to connect it to Dean's extended fingers._

 _Sam fought through the scream of his injured elbow as he stretched up towards his big brother, the pain too much to simply be blocked out – though he knew that was what a soldier was meant to do, but much to John Winchester's shame, Sam was no soldier._

" _That's it, Sammy. C'mon kiddo, almost there." Dean ground out, his tone laced with strain and pain, but there was pride too. Because Sam wasn't a solider, and he knew that he never would be, but Dean would still be proud of him – and that was enough, it always had been. That little drop of pride was all the extra motivation Sam needed to get the job done. He cried out as he forced himself to sway from his dislocated limb with enough momentum to connect his fingers with Dean's._

 _His older brother's grip was as solid as iron as he began to pull Sam up towards him, sliding his body back along what had to be burning floorboards as the younger boy was raised closer. Sam was looking up, waiting to be close enough to grab onto to the broken flooring. His body was jerked as he watched Dean flinch violently, the older boy biting back something that sounded dangerously close to a scream. Dean was in agony, that much was clear, Sam just wouldn't know the extent of it until he was back on semi-solid ground. The hands that were holding him over the fire were shaking so hard, if it had been anybody else, Sam would have feared being dropped into the starving flames. But it wasn't anybody else, it never was. It had always been Dean._

 _When Sam's elbows were up over the ledge, Dean stopped moving, his grip on his little brother still strong as ever, but no longer pulling._

" _Sammy, I need you to climb up me, buddy." It was a pleading request, and Sam knew that Dean had hit his limit and was no longer able to move his body. The older boy was shaking so hard it was causing Sam's own smaller frame to vibrate. Sam didn't know if he could do it, he only had one arm still in commission – but he knew he had no other choice, the desperation in his brother's voice making that clear._

 _Sam pressed his elbow into the wood flooring beneath him, releasing his hold on Dean's hand so that he could use his one functioning arm to pull himself up – or so was his intention, but first he needed the older boy to relinquish his hand._

" _Dean, you need to let go." Sam stated._

 _Panicked green eyes flew up to meet his, and Sam knew that his brother was thinking of the last time the youngest Winchester had made the same request only a few moments earlier – his mind obviously distracted with exhaustion and pain._

" _You can keep my right hand, but I need to use this one to climb up." Sam explained softly, coughing through the smoke as he wiggled his left fingers and tried to tug them free._

 _He felt Dean's grip on him tighten his gaze fierce, laced with confusion while his expression was twisted in anguish, before understanding slowly flickered across it and he released his hold on Sam's left hand, the grip on his right wrist becoming that much stronger in response. Sam swallowed a gasp when he was forced to lean wait onto his injured limb as he reached up with his functional arm and grabbed onto his brother, bunching the jacket covering Dean's shoulder as he pulled himself further up over the edge._

" _That's a boy, keep at it, Sammy." The hushed support was grit out through clenched teeth, but it still caused Sam's heart to swell and strengthened his resolve, biting back his own agony – his dislocated elbow screaming as he continued his slow climb up his brother's body and over the newly-formed gap in the floor. It took way too damn long, but eventually Sam could feel the broken wooden edges digging into his ribs as he pulled himself along the floor, using Dean's body as his anchor._

 _Dean finally surrendered the hold he had maintained on Sam's right wrist since before the ground had vanished from beneath his feet, and instead hooked his fingers into the beltloops on Sam's jeans and helped pull the skinny frame further forward._

 _Sam's eyes – when they hadn't been closed in an effort to fight off the pain - had been concentrated on his grip on Dean's jacket as well as the floor in front of his face, but once he was suddenly lurching forward his head raised and his gaze landed over his brother's shoulders and caught sight of the fire that was crawling its way up Dean's long legs._

" _Fuck!" Sam shouted, panic striking through him as he scrambled desperately up over the ledge and dove towards the flames. Heedless of his ruined elbow, Sam ripped off his jacket, pain shuddering through him, causing bile to rise up his throat but he swallowed it down – not willing to remove his focus from the threat. He draped his coat over his brother's legs, ignoring the flames that licked at his fingers as he smothered the fire. Terror reigned over Sam's mind as he continued desperately patting down both Dean's legs with his jacket._

 _The older boy had been burning._

 _Dean had been_ _ **burning**_ _alive._

 _The thought was paralyzing, and yet Sam couldn't stop his frantic movements._

" _\- out already!"_

 _Sam could hear his brother hollering at him and feel Dean trying to move his legs as he tried to tug the smaller teen off him, but Sam couldn't stop what he was doing. He had to make certain the flames were gone, he had to make Dean safe._

" _Sam, it's out! Stop! We need to get out of here."_

 _The command did nothing to deter the younger boy's focus, but the two hands that wrapped around his hips and pulled him back managed to take Sam's mind off the threat he had felt was still after his big brother._

" _It's out, buddy. You hearing me? It's out." The words were raspy and calm this time as Dean sat up and pulled Sam back against his broad frame. Sam fought the grip, clawing at the charred wood floor as he attempted to crawl back towards the legs that had been on fire just moments before._

" _Sam, enough! I'm fine. You got it." Dean declared, his fingers digging painfully into the younger teen's bony hips. Out of energy, Sam relented and fell back against the firm body. "It's out, alright? It's out. You put it out, I promise."_

 _Sam nodded, forcing himself to believe the reassurances, his chest was heaving as he tried to concentrate on anything that wasn't the image of his big brother burning alive._

" _It's out. We need to get moving, kiddo." Dean prompted, waiting for Sam's nod before using his hold on his hips and pushing him up. Sam choked on the smoke, his burned feet screaming as he leaned down to pull Dean to his feet. The taller teen stumbled, nearly falling to his knees before Sam used his left side to block his fall and prop him up. Sam grabbed the calloused fingers and pulled them down across his shoulders as he wrapped his left arm around Dean's waist, gripping tight to his belt and helping him limp along as best he could while dealing with his own unsteady gait._

 _Dean must have still been able to see better than Sam, because he guided the shorter boy through the smoke, the fire scouring everything around them and making the heat damn near unbearable._

 _It felt like they spent hours wandering through a maze of smoke and fire before finally spilling out onto the front lawn. Sam lost his footing and slammed down onto his knees, but was only on the ground for a short second before a strong arm snaked around his chest and lifted him back up. He stumbled forward, allowing Dean to hold him up, both of them hacking violently – the chilled night air as difficult to inhale as the smoke had been._

 _The next time Sam went down, Dean tumbled with him, both teens collapsing in the grass. The older boy's hand never left Sam's back as he curled up on his left side and continued to cough so hard he could barely breathe._

 _He could hear his father's voice, but was far too occupied trying to fill his lungs to bother responding to him. John Winchester had never been much for patience and Sam soon felt large hands roaming his body in a rough efficiency, the way they often did when searching for injuries. Sam choked out a cry as the coarse touch reached his dislocated joint._

" _Fuck." The eldest hunter cursed. "Alright, Sam. Let's get you up, c'mon son."_

 _Before the teen could blink, his father had hauled him up into a vertical position. The second Sam settled weight on his feet, the burns made themselves known and his knees threatened to buckle from the pain – but there wasn't time for that. Dean was hurt._

 _And Joh couldn't carry them both._

 _Sam forced himself to move, followed the two taller forms marching in front of him, the larger man supporting the slighter one as they moved towards the car – spurred on by the sounds of sirens in the distance._

 _Sam fumbled his way into the front passenger seat as Dean was unloaded in the back, stretched across the bench seat, coughing relentlessly._

" _Hospital?" Sam asked, the question directed towards his father, even as his gaze never ventured from his brother._

" _No."_

 _Sam's eyes tore themselves from the young man hacking for all he was worth in the backseat, to stare incredulously at the individual behind the wheel. "What?" He croaked in confusion._

 _Did John not understand that Dean had been on fire?_

 _The older man glanced Sam's way as he added speed to the Impala, racing it down the unlit country road._

" _It's too risky. This town is too small, we go in there with burns the same night there is a house fire and next thing we know we've got cops crawling all over us. There'd be no hope of explaining our presence at the scene without it sounding suspicious and there were no witnesses to back up the fact that we didn't start that fire. Too much risk."_

 _Sam made to argue, because yeah, it would be risky – could get dangerous, but none of that mattered because Dean was hurt. Before Sam could voice the obvious, his dad spoke again._

" _Dean's got some bad second-degree burns, but it's nothing I can't treat. He'll be okay, Sam." John reassured one of his large hands detouring briefly from the wheel to give Sam's knobby knee a comforting pat. "And I'll slide your shoulder back in place when we get back to the house."_

 _Sam frowned, his jaw clenching, not even bothering to correct his father about exactly which of his joints was out of place. He hated this. Hated their life. Hated that Dean had been on fucking_ _ **fire**_ _and couldn't even be given the proper treatment._

" _Sammy."_

 _The soft rasp had the younger boy returning his gaze to the backseat. Dean was looking at him from where he was laying, his face blackened by smoke and ash, but green eyes clear and focussed on Sam._

" _It's okay. I'm okay. We'll be alright."_

 _Sam nodded solemnly, the simple assurance making him feel better then anything John had said, but he still wasn't happy about it._

 _They pulled into the driveway of the house they had been renting, it was secluded just out on the edge of town, the closest neighbours being the farmers about a mile down the road. John exited the vehicle, immediately moving around to the back door behind Sam so he could help Dean out. Sam waited until his dad had passed his door before pushing it open and stepping out of the car. The pain in his feet screamed as the sensitive skin pressed into gravel and the next thing Sam knew he was on the ground with his legs spread haphazardly in front of him._

" _Sam?"_

 _He looked up to see John staring down at him from behind the open back door with an eyebrow raised._

" _M'fine." He mumbled. His dad needed to focus on Dean, Sam just needed a minute…or two._

" _Sam, son, you need to stand so that I can help your brother into the house." The order was stern, but not void of compassion. Sam nodded, knowing Dean needed the help – he had been on_ _ **fire**_ _– the youngest of the three had to step-up and carry his own weight._

 _Unfortunately, Sam's mental conviction did not translate to any level of physical strength. The adrenaline that had stemmed from seeing Dean being burned alive and the sheer desperation to get him to safety had propelled Sam from the house – but all that had faded now and the young teen was crashing, he was crashing hard. The pain, the intermittent coughing that made it difficult to fill his lungs, and the physical depletion were all overwhelming the smaller boy and as much as he wanted to power through – he couldn't will his body to cooperate with the sentiment._

" _Front and center, Sam!" John commanded in that drill instructor tone that always had Dean jumping to attention – because he was a good soldier, Sam never had been, and his lack of response was further evidence of that fact. "Sam! Focus, I need to get Dean inside and deal with those burns. We need to move-_

" _Dad, stop! There's something wrong. He's hurt. He could barely walk out of the house." Dean relayed, his voice wrecked from the smoke, but still loud enough to be heard. Sam watched as his brother appeared within view, sitting on the edge of the back bench-seat for a moment before pulling himself to stand._

" _Stop moving, Dean. Calm down. I already checked him over, it's just his shoulder." John insisted, gripping the older boy's elbows as Dean tried to move past the open door toward Sam._

" _It's not. There's something else." Dean snapped between coughs. Suddenly he was kneeling in front of Sam, his hand on the back of the smaller boy's neck, fingers scratching gently beneath his hair. "What is it, Sammy? Where you hurt?"_

 _Sam nearly snorted at the absurdity of Dean asking such a question. He had been on_ _ **fire**_ _._

" _Feet." The simple word scraped its way out of Sam's raw throat as he looked up at his big brother._

 _Dean's face was lined with agony – as it had been since the first time he had cried out back on the floor of the house – but confusion still managed to filter in, his eyebrows rising as he scooted back to take a look at the mentioned appendages._

" _Shit, Sammy. Why the fuck didn't you say anything?" Dean snapped, the frustrated inquiry not nearly as loud as it would have been if his voice hadn't been wrecked by the smoke._

 _Sam shrugged, hissing as Dean poked at his injury._

" _Fuck. Dad, his shoes have practically melted to the bottom of his feet."_

" _I know, Dean. I can see it. Let's just get you two inside so we can get you both sorted."_

 _Before he could think to respond either verbally or physically to the order, there was a long arm looping beneath Sam's knees and another wrapping around his back and lifting him swiftly off the ground._

" _Dean, I'll get him. You're going to hurt yourself." John declared._

" _I got him." Dean declared with a grunt, pulling away from the older man's grip and marching towards the house, calling over his shoulder almost dismissively, "Bring the first aid kit."_

" _Dean, I can walk. Put me down." Sam stated, feeling the muscles in his brother's arms quake beneath his skin – no doubt still strained from having to hold Sam's weight over the fire for so long._

" _It's fine, Sam. I've got you." Dean assured as he moved up the driveway._

" _No, you're hurt. Let me go." Sam argued. He was taken aback by the viciousness of the glare that was seared into him by a pair of blazing green eyes._

 _The fury was so intense Sam would have been afraid if it wasn't coming from the one person who had always made him feel safe._

 _He had never feared Dean, and he didn't imagine he ever could._

 _But if such a thing were possible, now would have been the time._

 _Dean's anger didn't fade. Not during the short trip to the bedroom that the boys were sharing. Not when he placed him down on the bed. Not when he stubbornly insisted on helping John remove the melted rubber soles from Sam's skin and apply disinfectant to the blisters covering the bottom of the younger boy's feet. Dean's touch was as gentle as ever, but the fury never faded from his eyes as he wiped the tears of pain from his little brother's face as it took John four attempts to force Sam's elbow back into the proper position. Dean was still angry when John told him to lie face-down on the bed as Sam cut off what was left of his charred jeans, and the entire time his legs were being treated by the other two Winchesters and his right wrist was wrapped securely in a tensor bandage. Dean's fury still had not diminished hours later when Sam crawled into their shared bed – the lines of anger on the older boy's face refusing to fade even as his breath evened out and he drifted off to sleep._

 _Sam couldn't sleep. He was exhausted as hell and the pills his dad had given both boys were helping with the pain and making him drowsy – and yet he still couldn't sleep. He couldn't stop thinking about what he had done, how he had almost gotten his brother killed – he couldn't get rid of the twisted feeling in his stomach he always got when Dean was cross with him. He lied awake until the sun came up, which was actually only a few hours after he had climbed into bed. He was awake when John came over to check both his sons' injuries before giving Sam instructions on how to care for the burns and informing the young teen that he would be back by dinner. Sam was awake an hour after their father departed. He was laying on his left side watching Dean sleep. The older teen was on his stomach - the only position that was likely comfortable considering the burns covering his calves - with his face turned towards Sam, still creased in anger. Sam was sill awake when Dean startled from sleep._

 _It wasn't common for Dean to ever be startled, let alone come out of rest that way, he must have been having a bad dream. Sam watched the green eyes wildly scan the room before settling on the smaller boy only to harden the moment they did. Sam chewed on his bottom lip, wishing he could offer comfort but not wanting to further infuriate the older teen._

" _Dad take off?" The gruff question wasn't much more then a whisper, both their voices still ruined from all the smoke they inhaled._

" _Yeah." Sam rasped in reply. "You need anything?" He asked, knowing it was too early for more pain medication but willing to get Dean anything else he needed._

" _I'm fine." Dean dismissed with a grimace as he let his head drop back down onto his pillow._

" _I'll get you some water." Sam decided, making a move to slide off the bed before an iron grip wrapped around his right wrist._

" _You will do no such thing."_

 _Sam eyebrows rose in response to the intensity of the order._

" _You got any idea how many germs and shit could be on this carpet – it's a fucking rental house, Sam, and you want to go walking around with open wounds on your feet? What the fuck is the matter with you?"_

 _Sam mouth opened and closed, like a fish out of water, he had no idea how to respond._

" _Sorry." He croaked, looking down at the fingers he was twisting in his sweater, wincing as his sore elbow made itself known._

 _Dean made to sit up, Sam placing a tentative palm on his shoulder to halt the process._

" _Umm, I need to put the antibiotic cream on your burns before you get up. I should have done it earlier, but I didn't want to wake you." Sam explained timidly, trying not to do anything to escalate the anger Dean had been nursing for hours._

 _Dean's jaw was clenching._

" _Please. I'll be quick, I promise." Sam added quietly._

 _It took a moment, but eventually Dean nodded, though his reluctance was apparent._

 _Sam's lips twitched up in relief, he would have found a way to take care of Dean regardless of his response – he always had - but it was a far easier task when his big brother was a willing participant. He grabbed the ointment off the side table and scooted down the bed on his knees until he was next to his brother's legs. He cringed at the sight of the damaged and blistered skin, it looked painful as hell. He applied the antibiotic cream generously, knowing that infection was the biggest threat to his big brother at this stage, but it was preventable – Dad had made sure to mention that a time or two last night to settle down his two sons that were worried for each other._

" _Do you want me to wrap them, the burns. Just uuh, if you're going anywhere or anything the burns should probably be wrapped." Sam explained softly, knowing the wounds needed to be covered if they were going to be coming into contact with anything other than the air._

" _Nah, it's fine. I'm don't think I'll be going anywhere today."_

 _Sam nodded, relieved that Dean would be staying close today, that would make it far easier for Sam to look after him. Sam stayed kneeling on the bed, trying to think of what food they had in the kitchen that he could make for Dean._

" _Pass me the ointment." Dean ordered gruffly, as he leveraged himself up on his hands, his arms shaking with the slight strain as they were no doubt still sore from holding a dangling teenager above the flames for so long several hours ago. Sam frowned, knowing he hadn't missed any spots on his brother's legs, but handed over the tube of cream regardless. He watched Dean begin to sit up and swing his legs over the end of the bed, speaking up softly before the older boy could get to his feet._

" _Do you need me to get you something?" He offered hesitantly, knowing that doting on Dean made the teen feel smothered, but not wanting his brother to cause himself any further pain or discomfort._

 _He had been on_ _ **fire**_ _._

 _And all because of Sam._

 _The youngest Winchester wasn't going to let anymore harm befall his hero._

" _I need to spread some of this shit on your feet." Dean replied, his tone clipped as he glared back at the boy kneeling on the bed behind him._

" _Oh, umm, you don't have to get up for that, I could just lie down and—_

" _And put weight on your elbow? Use your goddamn brain, Sam."_

 _The ire coming off his big brother left Sam feeling lost and unsettled. Dean had been angry with him, of course he had – Sam could be annoying and stubborn and relentlessly persistent and all those made it very easy for him to get under people's skin (especially his father's) without even really trying. Sam and Dean spent a lot of time together, probably more than most other brothers ever did, and some days they just couldn't stand each other – but even then, even when Sam was pissing the older boy off and intentionally pushing every button he could find, Dean had never dished out this level of indignation._

" _C'mon, sit back against the headboard so I can get this done and go back to sleep, I'm fucking exhausted."_

 _Sam responded to that, knowing his brother had acquired barely four hours of sleep and seeing the evidence of his exhaustion in his slow moves and the dark circles under his eyes._

 _He clambered over towards the edge of the bed – Dean's side, the one closest to the door – and rested back against the old wooden headboard as he stretched his feet out in front of him, his toes flexed back giving his brother easier access to injuries._

" _Don't do that. You're gonna pop all these damn blisters." Dean snapped, as his calloused fingers straightened Sam's feet – his hands firm but impossibly gentle, contradicting the bite in his words. "Dad should have done this before he took off. He should have wrapped them too, can't expect you to stay in bed all fucking day." Dean mumbled, more to himself than his brother._

 _The scowl never left Dean's face even as his feather-light touch spread the antibiotic cream over the younger boy's damaged skin. Sam's right foot flinched away in pain as Dean's finger tips came in contact with a particular charred area of skin, causing the taller teen to frown._

" _Sorry." He croaked out._

" _Shut up, Sam." Dean huffed._

 _Sam bit his lip, trying his best to swallow the lump of emotions that had formed in his throat. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know how to make things right. But he'd do anything to ease his brother's anger, anything to be forgiven. Dean was Sam's hero, his big brother, his best friend, he was damn near everything and Sam couldn't stand being both the cause and target of his brother's fury a moment longer. But he knew that he deserved it. He had nearly gotten the older boy killed. Dean should be angry with him._

" _I'm sorry, Dean." Sam stated, the words scraping their way out of his smoke-damaged throat, but he did his best to say them with strength and certainty – wanting Dean to know that he meant it and wasn't simply trying to weasel his way back into his big brother's good graces._

" _Sam." It was a warning hissed through clenched teeth – it was something the youngest Winchester usually would have listened to, but he needed Dean to know how sorry he was and then he would shut up if that was what his brother wanted._

" _I'm really sorry! I should have been paying more attention! I should have been quicker. If I hadn't—_

" _Are you fucking kidding me right now, Sam?" Dean snapped, in what would have been a shout had his voice not been ruined by smoke._

 _Sam looked up, meeting the glare that was directed down at him in outrage, his mouth opening and closing as his mind ran in circles, swamped in confusion. He knew the apology wouldn't fix anything and was hardly enough, but he didn't imagine it would make his brother even angrier._

" _Are you seriously apologizing for falling through the fucking floor?"_

 _Sam nodded, looking down at the fingers he was twisting in his sweatpants._

" _Why are you sorry for that?"_

 _Sam frowned, he had thought that fact to be rather apparent. "Because you got hurt saving me. I got you hurt." He explained softly._

" _Don't be an idiot, Sam. You didn't burn me, the damn fire did. And you didn't cause the floor to collapse, the fire did. So why the hell are you apologizing for that?"_

 _The question was sharp and had Sam feeling chastised, though he still wasn't sure what he had done wrong._

" _You're unbelievable." Dean scoffed, giving his head a shake before returning his attention to Sam's left foot._

 _Sam felt helpless. He felt like his was failing his brother and he didn't know what to do, or how to make it better. Everything he said or did seemed to make things worst, but last night Sam had elected silence and that hadn't seemed to work either. The frustration, exhaustion, and distress were all becoming too much and the world went bleary as moisture gather in Sam's eyes. The younger boy bit down ferociously on his bottom lip to keep from releasing a sound. Soldiers didn't cry, and while Sam very clearly wasn't much of a soldier, he wasn't a baby._

 _He refused to cry – he just needed to relay that message to his eyeballs._

 _He focussed his watery gaze down at his fidgeting hands, but he still felt Dean's fingers stall against his charred skin._

" _Does it hurt that bad?" It was the first thing Dean had said since waking up that had contained the softer undertones that he had often used with Sam._

 _The smaller teen shook his head, because the pain was a lot, but it wasn't the reason for his emotional display._

" _Then what's with the tears?" Dean inquired, not unkindly._

 _Sam responded with an evasive shrug, wincing as his right elbow made it clear it did not appreciate the movement._

" _Sam. Look at me." The younger boy followed the order, his timid hazel eyes rising to meet the fierce green ones. "Why are you so upset?"_

 _There was a long pause where Sam's gaze drifted between his bare toes and his big brother before finally opening his mouth. "You're angry."_

 _It wasn't a question, but Dean gave an answer regardless. "Yeah." He confirmed with a grunt._

 _Sam nodded. "At me." He added with a tired but knowing sigh._

" _Yahtzee." Dean deadpanned, his scowl still firmly in place._

 _Sam nodded again, biting down on his lip and trying his best to swallow the lump growing in his throat as he blinked the moisture from his eyes._

" _Do you know why I'm pissed?"_

" _You're not pissed." Sam corrected softly._

" _What?" Dean snapped._

" _I've seen you pissed. This is different."_

" _Fine. I'm livid. I'm irate. I'm fucking enraged. Is that better?" Dean shouted._

 _Sam remained silent, knowing the question was rhetorical but he silently agreed that those adjectives were far more accurate._

" _Do you know why?"_

 _The younger boy looked up at the inquiry, furrowing his eyebrows as he hesitantly moved his head up and down, but feeling as though the question was just another test Sam was going to fail the second he answered._

" _Really? You think you have a goddamn clue why I'm so angry – or whatever the word of the fucking day is!?"_

 _Sam didn't know anything anymore._

" _Because I fe—_

" _I swear to god, Sam, if you say it's because you fell through the floor - I will put my fist through the wall."_

 _Sam's teeth clicked from the force of his jaw slamming shut, desperation twisting his stomach in knots until he it clawed its way up his esophagus and out his mouth._

" _I'm sorry! Whatever I did, I'm sorry! Please just tell me what I did so I can make it right. Please, Dean." Sam broke, feeling all of five years old as he hiccupped through his last sentence, tears streaming down his face._

 _He stared up at Dean through his watery gaze, pleading with his brother to just tell him what he had done wrong, though by the look he had seen on the older boy's face, Sam was aware he should have known._

 _Dean sighed, somehow managing to sound both irritated and sympathetic as he dropped down on the bed next to Sam's knees, the larger frame was still tense with anger, but a few of the creases in his face had smoothed out._

" _You didn't get any sleep last night, did you?"_

 _The question seemed off-point, but Sam responded with an honest shake of his head nonetheless._

" _I figured, you only get emotional like this when you're seriously sleep-deprived." Dean commented as he used his calloused thumbs to swipe Sam's trailing tears from his face._

 _Sam knew that exhaustion wasn't the only reason for his overly-emotional reaction, but he didn't deny that it was likely playing a part._

" _You seriously don't know?" The older teen inquired, the query sounding genuine._

 _Sam replied with a helpless shake of his head._

 _Dean frowned, squinting over at the younger teen, studying him before he spoke again, his voice still an angry growl – but softer then it had been since he woke up._

" _I'm not angry because you fell through the fucking floor, Sam. That wasn't your fault, there wasn't a damn thing you could have done to prevent it. We didn't know the fire was in the basement until it was too late and there was no way you could have stopped it from happening. And I'm sure as shit not mad at you for not being able to climb up faster – hell, kid, I'm impressed you managed to pull yourself up at all with your goddamn elbow dislocated."_

 _Sam's eyebrows raised at the unexpected praise._

" _These burns are not your fault." Dean declared with an angry confidence as he gestured down at his legs._

 _Sam bit his bottom lip, because that wasn't true, but he wouldn't dare contradict the older boy, not when he was just getting him to talk._

" _Ofcourse you would do this." Dean sighed, his green eyes losing some of their fire._

" _What?" Sam prompted when his big brother failed to proceed with his explanation._

" _Ofcourse you would blame yourself for ever single thing out of your control – like the floor giving out and my injuries – hell, you apologized for your freakin foot flinching from the pain, but you don't feel any guilt at all for the stupid shit you said to me."_

 _Sam ransacked his mind, completely tore it apart in his desperate search to find any words he had spoken in the past twenty-four hours that would have caused any damage at all to his big brother. He was lost. He couldn't remember uttering a single sound of cruelty or even irritation towards the older boy, he certainly couldn't recall saying anything that would ignite Dean Winchester's wrath._

" _You're unbelievable." The older teen bit out as he stood from the bed, pacing next to it and what Sam recognized as an attempt to contain his fury._

" _Just tell me. Please." Sam requested, twitching his legs, whishing he could stand and approach the taller frame._

 _Dean spun around, planting himself no more than two feet from the edge of the mattress, and leveled Sam with a dark look – the green eyes piercing through the wide hazel pair._

" _You told me to let you go." The older boy seethed, his tone as vicious as his expression._

 _Sam's frown deepened as he cocked his head to the side – because that couldn't possibly be it, that couldn't be the reason Dean was so furious._

" _You were going to fall." Sam pointed out practically._

" _Don't make excuses." The teen snapped._

 _The youngest Winchester forced his voice to remain steady as he responded. "I'm not making excuses. You were going to fall, we were both going to fall – I was trying to minimize the collateral damage." Any hope Sam had of earning points with his brother by quoting the great John Winchester vanished as long fingers locked around the collar of his sweater, shaking him a little before hauling him forward to meet Dean's face. The treatment was rougher than Sam was used to coming from his older brother, but it was a far cry from harsh and did not spark so much as a flicker of fear in the smaller boy. Because Sam felt safest with Dean and trusted him even when the teen was at his most unpredictable and as livid as he'd ever been with his younger brother_

" _Don't you say that! Don't you fucking dare." Dean growled an inch from Sam's face. "We do_ _ **not**_ _work that way – that is not how we fucking operate – not you and me,_ _ **not ever**_ _." It would have been a shout if the taller hunter's voice hadn't been damaged by the smoke._

 _Sam nodded, because it was true, Dean was right. He hadn't agreed with the words even as they had fallen from his tongue, he had simply been hoping that channeling John would give Sam better luck at connecting with his brother, because nothing the teen had said had seemed to do any good. It was clear now that his latest tactic had failed and that left Sam with no choice but to be honest._

" _I was trying to keep you alive! Trying to protect you. Cause that's what brothers do, right? Keep each other safe!" Sam pleaded, his voice cracking as his desperation broke through, his fingers shaking as he gripped Dean's shirt with the same intensity that his brother was holding his._

 _Dean's anger had not shifted, but he made no verbal reply as he stared down at Sam, breathing heavily through clenched teeth._

" _I was trying to save you." Sam added, his voice hoarse but still steady with confidence and honesty because he had no regrets._

 _Dean barked a laugh that was so damn hollow and broken that the sound of it twisted Sam's insides into a sickening knot._

" _Save me?! You think that would have saved me? You think watching my kid brother fall to his death would have done anything other than destroy me?"_

 _Sam felt his heart clench violently inside his chest as his brother's expression morphed from enraged to shattered in the blink of an eye. Dean released Sam's shirt and took a few stumbling steps backwards, running his hands through his hair, making it even more ruffled than a restless sleep already had._

" _Fucking hell, Sam. There'd be no saving me if you died. If you had fallen – if you'd actually succeeded in twisting yourself out of my hands like you damn near almost did – if you had died, I'd be done. I wouldn't make it back from that."_

 _The force of Dean's words stole the air from Sam's lungs and it took him a moment to refill them before he responded._

" _It wouldn't have been your fault." Sam stated softly_

 _Dean scoffed at that._

" _It wouldn't have! You said yourself the fire caused the floor to give out, and if I had gotten out of your grip it would have been my doing not yours." He explained._

" _That's not the fucking point, Sam." Dean spat back._

 _Sam sighed, because he knew the conversation was going to move on to whatever the 'fucking point' was and that it would bypass the fact that Dean placed far too much blame on himself for things that were far from his control._

" _Then what is the point?" He allowed, because based off fifteen years of history, Sam was willing to wager he'd have the remainder of his lifetime to revisit Dean's issues with carrying around unwarranted guilt._

" _That you even thought that! That's the point!" Dean shouted. "That you thought for one second I could do that. That you thought it was even a fucking option."_

 _Sam frowned, staring down at his lap as he tried to piece together a response, he was rarely speechless but this was one of those few moments in his life where he was truly at a loss for words._

" _How could you do that?" The question was cracked and broken and had Sam's head snapping up and gaze focussing in on the hurt teen who dropped down wearily onto the edge of the mattress next to Sam's knees. "How could you ask me to let you fall? How could you even think I'd be able to do that?" The green eyes trained on Sam were finally void of anger, but Sam would have chosen the fury over the hurt that replaced it._

" _I wasn't thinking." He replied honestly._

 _Dean cocked his head slightly to the side, clearly waiting for the younger boy to clarify._

" _I didn't think about it, about what I was asking you to do – not really. There wasn't time to think at first, I was just hanging there in pain and I could barely breathe, and then I heard you scream." Sam's voice broke and he did his best to swallow the fear that arose at the memory. "I knew the fire had reached you, I knew you were – you were burning." Tears flooded Sam's eyes as he choked out the last word. "And the only thing in my mind was that I needed to save you. That was all that mattered."_

 _Sam glanced between the overly colourful duvet rumpled at the end of the bed and his big brother, but Dean's eyes never wavered from the younger teen's face._

" _I needed to save you. And I couldn't do it by getting myself up, so the only other way I could do it – the only thing I could think to do that would keep you from being killed, was to get you to let me go."_

" _And you thought I'd be able to do that?" Dean asked, his expression raw and shattered and so fucking hurt that Sam could hardly stand it._

" _No! I didn't. That's why I tried to twist out of your hand because I knew that you wouldn't. And it didn't take me long to realize that wasn't going to work either – you were holding on so tight. Dean, when I really thought about it, I knew it would never happen. I knew that if I managed to force you to let go that you'd jump down after me. I knew that when I really thought about it. I just, I wasn't thinking at first – I just wanted to save you." Sam did his best to explain, finding his words to be stuttered and sentences poorly formed – his usual eloquence and large vocabulary failing him in the face of his big brother's anguish and his own erupting emotions._

 _Sam's gaze was on the fingers he was twisting in his sweatpants, but he looked up as a large hand latched on to his smaller ones; his brother's thumb moving gently back and forth over the dark finger-shaped bruises on Sam's right wrist. Dean's expression had calmed, sympathy had filtered into his gaze, but the naked hurt was still far too prominent._

" _I get that you were trying to protect me, I don't agree with your reasoning, but doing whatever it takes to save your brother – I understand that, probably more than anyone else ever could."_

 _Dean's firm but gentle words soothed Sam's soul and allowed him to take a deep breath for what felt like the first time since before the fire._

" _But I need you to hear me when I tell you that letting you go like that, it will never be an option, and it sure as shit won't save me. Whether it is my fault or not, you getting hurt like that, you being-being killed- " Dean's voice cracked and he took a moment to clench his jaw and inhale deeply a time or two before finishing his thought. "That would_ _ **destroy**_ _me, Sam. You get that? There'd be no saving me after that."_

 _Sam nodded, working to breathe past the lump in his throat as he was hit once again with the full-force of his big brother's love._

" _I know." Sam answered with a horse whisper, because Dean seemed to be waiting for a reply and because Sam was being perfectly honest. He knew that about his brother, he had always known that, if the very reality had never been spelt out for him, Sam still would have known the truth of it. He could see it in every single thing his brother said and did, and he knew how to recognize it because Sam felt the very same way. There would be no Sam without Dean and no Dean without Sam, which was terrifying and comforting and motivating and paralyzing and just fucking everything._

" _Good." Dean stated with a nod, turning away slightly as he swiftly wiped at his eyes, sniffling quietly._

" _I'm sorry." Sam declared, the statement far more genuine now that he actually understood what he was apologizing for._

" _I know." Dean assured. "It's okay. I get it, I get that you weren't thinking. I'm not angry anymore, okay? It's just…"_

" _Just what?" Sam prompted softly after his brother's voice had faded off._

" _Just don't ever ask me to do anything like that again, alright? Not just cause it's impossible – I mean letting you fall? That's just not something I could ever do, Sammy."_

 _The younger boy nodded, chewing on his bottom lip, waiting as he knew Dean wasn't finished._

" _But just hearing you say shit like that, fuck. It_ _ **hurt**_ _, Sam. It hurt so fucking much." The older boy confessed in a broken whisper, a single tear slipping free from the corner of his eye. "So just don't- don't do that to me again, okay kiddo?"_

 _Sam wanted to apologize again, he wanted to say he was sorry until the sun had gone back down and his voice had vanished, but he knew that wasn't what his brother wanted to hear, it wasn't what Dean needed._

" _I won't." Because Sam would have promised damn near anything to wipe the look of pain and absolute helplessness off his big brother's face._

 _Dean studied the smaller boy for a moment, before nodding, a small smile erasing some of the distress from his expression, as he nodded._

 _Peace and relief flooded Sam's soul as he was granted his big brother's forgiveness. He didn't regret what he had done to try and save Dean, because he would always do anything he could to protect the one person who he loved most in the world. But he regretted more than anything the hurt he had caused his brother, the shattered look he had placed on the face of the one person who was always there for him._

 _He would do anything to keep that brokenness as far away as fucking possible from those bright green eyes._

 _Anything._

"You were livid. You had never been that angry with me before – and haven't been since then." The younger man pointed out, physically shaking his head to dislodge the past and focus on the argument he had been using their history to make.

Dean looked like he wanted to deny it, but he couldn't – they both knew as much. Dean had reacted with just as much fury when Sam had dared to speak those three fucking words.

"You don't get to call me a drama queen when you responded the same damn way." The youngest Winchester declared, his chin up, daring his brother to argue with the facts.

"Fine. But when you said those words, you said them because you were trying to save me. I did the same thing. Who's being the hypocrite now?"

Sam's anger bubbled back to life at Dean's pathetic attempt at justification.

"What you did is different." The taller man snapped.

"How?" Dean nearly shouted in response, his face twisted in genuine confusion.

"Because you fucking knew what it was like to hear those words! You _knew_ how that felt. You knew how much that fucking hurt you to hear – you knew how it tore you apart, and you fucking said it anyways!" Sam's voice was still hoarse, likely from the four days it went unused in the hospital, but he put enough power into it to get his point across.

"You know that's not how I meant it."

"Really? Then why the fuck did you say it? Did you think I would do it? You think I'd just let you go – drop you off the edge of a fucking cliff so I can save my own skin? Because that's what I do, right? I'm the piece of shit who fucks over everyone in his life."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Dean snapped, moving his chair forward until his knees were hitting the mattress, his incredulous stare focussed on the younger man who was slowly unraveling before his eyes.

"I'm the selfish asshole who lets everyone down." Sam summarised with a croak.

"Selfish? What kind of whacked out meds did they put you on at that hospital?"

Sam rolled his eyes.

"Hey, none of that – look at me." Dean ordered. Sam scowled but granted the older man the attention he requested, mostly out of curiosity. "You are _not_ selfish. You have never been selfish, not a day in your damn life."

"I doubt Dad would agree with that." Sam muttered in reply, because selfish was one of the last things John had called his youngest son before slamming the motel door, it was one of the many words his father had said that night that haunted the teen all the way to college.

"Fuck him. You are not selfish, Sam." Dean declared, his green eyes alight with fire. "You haven't let anyone down."

Sam snorted.

"You didn't let Jess down." Dean added, his voice impossibly soft – the way it always was when he brought up the girl Sam had so desperately wanted to share his life with.

Sam's nostrils flared and eyes prickled as he clenched his jaw.

"And you have never let me down. Not once." Dean proclaimed with all the conviction in the world. "I didn't tell you to let me go because I thought for one second that you would do it. Or because I thought you were selfish, or for any other twisted reason your self-deprecating mind managed to concoct." Dean assured.

"They why the fuck did you say it? I'm not a kid anymore, I'm no just some child you need to protect. We are supposed to be **partners**! Why did you tell me to let you go when you would never **ever** let me go? Because that's bullshit, Dean. I am no more capable of letting you go than you are of letting me go. And it's really fucking unfair of you to think I'd be anymore okay with those three words then you were."

Dean had the decency to look chastised, but not apologetic.

He moved from the chair to sit next to Sam's knees on the mattress, facing the younger man, his jaw clenching and unclenching as his green eyes softened and stared into the hazel ones glaring back in a frustrated focus.

"When you told me to let you go you didn't do it because I was a child under your protection or because I was less than you or because you thought you loved me more than I loved you. You said those same words back then because you were desperate to save me and you weren't thinking. I did the same thing. We're still partners, you and me against the world, kid – ain't nothing ever going to change that."

Sam's frown remained in place, because regardless of how true that might be, Dean still wasn't sorry, he didn't regret it – that much Sam could see.

"I heard you scream, I saw that monster tear into you – fuck Sammy, another couple minutes and it would have ripped through your neck and it would have been over. I was just trying to save you. Just like you did for me."

"You dying doesn't save me, Dean." Sam meant to say it with fury, but the crack in his voice and lump in his throat took out most of the sting. "It would **destroy** me."

Dean swallowed thickly, his jaw clenching, "I know." He croaked, sounding equal part regretful and grateful.

Sam nodded, because at least the moron understood that much.

"I told you I wouldn't say that shit to you again – I want you to do the same for me." Sam decided after a moment of the two brothers simply staring at one another.

"Sammy." Dean sighed, his gaze falling as he shook his head.

"Dean." Sam warned with a growl, because he knew refusal when he heard it – even when it was laced with sympathy.

"I can't. You know I can't." He finally sounded apologetic, but he was sorry for not being able to give Sam what he wanted – for hurting the younger man, not for the three words he had spoken. "When it comes down to it, I'll do anything to save you. You know that, Sammy." Dean spoke in that soft but certain way he always did with his little brother, with an additional tinge of regret and resignation – as though he knew his brother wouldn't forgive him.

Sam closed his eyes.

It wasn't fucking fair.

It wasn't fair that Dean refused to make the same promises that he forced out of Sam. It wasn't fair that when the roles were reversed Sam had offered up a million apologies and Dean couldn't give him a single one in return. It wasn't fair that no matter how grown Sam became or how much he railed against it – the double standard in their brotherhood remained ever-present.

It wasn't fair.

But it also wasn't fair of Sam to ask Dean to be someone he wasn't.

He knew his brother, he knew how Dean worked – he knew that in Dean's mind protecting Sam was his job and his responsibility and as much as the younger man tried to show him that it went both ways – Dean would never truly understand. Dean would always see more worth in Sam's life than his own, and no matter how much Sam did to disprove that fact, it wouldn't change anything. They were partners, Dean would make the same claim – hell, he just had - but in the end he would always see himself as the protector and he would always see Sam as the one who needed protecting.

Sam would forever be Dean's kid.

It was the reality of his life and he could fight it all he wanted but it was never going to change, because Dean was never going to change – at least not in that respect.

Sam sighed, his brain pulsing as his mind worked its way through his current frustration. It was unfair of him to ask Dean to be someone he wasn't. So Sam wouldn't push the older man into making the same promise that Dean had nearly forced him into. But Sam would spend the rest of his life doing everything possible to prove to Dean that his life had just as much value – if not more - than that of his little brother. He would dedicate each waking moment to protecting Dean with as much ferocity and dedication and selflessness as he did for Sam. He would show the hard-headed hunter that Sam wasn't any more willing or capable of letting his brother go than Dean was. Sam would one day introduce his brother to a fact that had always been his reality; there was no Sam without Dean, just as there was no Dean without Sam.

One day his big brother would understand that as wholly and absolutely as Sam did.

For now, Sam would accept what Dean was able to give him.

"Fine." He bit out as he opened his eyes, the green eyes focussed on him widening in surprise – Dean likely shocked with Sam's acceptance of his refusal to make a promise. "But just know that whenever you tell me to let you go, whenever you say those three words – know that it will just make me dig my heels in – know that it will make me fight that much harder and hold on that much tighter. You got that?" Sam asked, leveling Dean with a serious look, making sure the older man knew that Sam meant every damn word.

Dean's brow furrowed in concern and his lips pressed into a thin line, displaying his obvious concern and displeasure, but he nodded nonetheless. "Okay, Sam. I hear you." He confirmed roughly.

"Good." Sam replied, his frustration, fear, fury, and hurt placated just enough to give way to the bone-deep depletion that had been lurking underneath. He slumped back against the cushions, his body too exhausted to maintain any degree of posture. He winced as slight pressure was placed against the wounds on his back.

"C'mon kiddo, let's get you horizontal." Dean suggested, waiting for the permitting nod before helping to ease the slim frame down onto its right side.

Sam winced, wishing more than anything he could curl up, but the agony in his back was not about to allow that.

"What was the other thing?" Dean asked as he gently adjusted Sam's sling so it wasn't tugging uncomfortably at his neck.

"Mm?" Sam hummed in question, watching Dean through half-lidded eyes.

"You said there were two things you were mad about, two things that were my fault." Dean elaborated, tugging the blanket up over Sam's bare chest.

"You left me in the hospital."

Hurt and regret flashed across the older man's tired face as he nodded, looking as though he were about to get to his feet, Sam stopped him, his right hand wrapping around Dean's right wrist – which he just now noticed was coloured with a dark bruise; a bruise that matched the shape of Sam's fingers.

"Sorry." He mumbled, switching to hold the long fingers instead.

"You saved my life, Sammy – Don't apologize for a stupid bruise." Dean said, his eyeroll not extracting any of the gratefulness or fondness from his tone.

Sam nodded, his grip tightening as Dean stood and pulling the hunter back down to sit on the mattress.

Dean's eyebrows rose in surprise but, he sat willingly and stared at Sam expectantly.

"I don't care how angry you think I am at you, or how difficult I'm being – don't leave me again." Sam intended it to be a stern command, but it sounded far more like a plea.

"Okay, I won't. I was going to be back in the morning, you know." Dean stated, not defensively but reassuring.

Sam eyes fell closed as he nodded wanting to absolve Dean of the unnecessary guilt he could hear in his voice, it had been a misunderstanding, Sam knew that; but he couldn't shake off how he had felt in the hospital when his sanity and security had walked out the door.

"I know, I was just hurt. Needed to feel safe. Needed you." Sam mumbled his tongue loose and uncensored as he began to drift off, his boney fingers still entangled with his brother's.

"I almost get you killed, and you come here cause I make you feel safe." Dean muttered.

Sam twitched a smile at the confliction and awe wrapped around the observation.

"Course. You're my home." Sam murmured through a yawn, the pain in his body dulling to a light throb as he began to fade.

He heard the sharp inhale as he felt calloused fingers card softly through his mussed hair.

"I'm not leaving you. Not letting you go either. That home thing goes both ways, Sammy."

As he surrendered to exhaustion, Sam realized that was the only promise he ever needed his brother to make.

 **The End**

* * *

Note: What did you think? Let me know! I live for feedback - it also motivates me to keep working and seeing as how I am waist deep in _More Than Enough_ right now I could really use the encouragement. And ya'll need to seriously pray that my 2005 car doesn't crap out on me because then I'll have to work some serious overtime and will never have time to write again! Thanks for reading! - Sam


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